Company in Exile
by SoundGeare
Summary: The situation forced his hand, and now the wanderer isn't alone in the wastes.
1. Escape!

This is part of my three stories competition. Its pretty simple. Whichever story gets the most reviews is the story that gets an update. I don't know when I'll have time to update, but whichever story is in the lead at that point will get dibs. The other two are A Visitor from the Vault (an Adventure Time fanfic) and Inkspot Stigma (a Legend of Zelda fanfic).

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"Come on!" Amata cried, "Wake up!"

Ian opened his eyes blearily to find Amata standing above him. She was visibly unsettled, constantly glancing back toward the door. "Hurry, wake up! You've gotta wake up!" she continued, still staring worriedly out of the room.

"Ugh, I'm up," Ian moaned, still half asleep, "What is it? Did something happen?"

Amata spun back around, her eyes wide, and let out a frantic laugh, "Did something happen? Your dad… he… he's gone!"

"What!" he burst out, leaping from his bed, "What do you mean he's gone?"

"He… left the vault!" she forced out, "I don't know how! He's just gone, and…" The vaults loudspeakers burst to life in a wave of static and the Overseer began to speak.

"Good morning, vault 101 citizens. I regret to inform you that there has been a radroach infestation and you are all hereby confined to your quarters. The vermin's extermination will be marked by a further broadcast. Until then, any and all citizens found in the halls without proper authorization will be dealt with… severely."

Amata stared up speaker mounted in the wall and began to moan, "Oh my god, oh my god, Ian!" she turned back to him and started to speak quickly, "That's you, it's a cover, oh my god." She leapt toward him and grasped Ian by the shoulders, then looked down at her hands when they struck flesh.

Ian looked down and realized for the first time that he wasn't wearing his jumpsuit, just a pair of grey boxers. His eyes darted back to Amata and saw that her face was coloring furiously even as he felt his cheeks begin to burn.

Closing her eyes, Amata spoke quickly, "Hurry, get dressed, my dad's men will be here any minute. You've got to leave… get outa here."

Ian paused midway through zipping up the blue jumpsuit, "Leave! Do you know what you're saying? I'll die out there!"

Amata opened her eyes and Ian realized there were tears there. "It's Jonas, they've… killed him!"

Ian felt his legs go weak and he dropped back onto his bed. "Jonas is… dead?" Ian's breath caught in his throat and he almost choked as the words came out. He'd known the man his whole life, one of his father's closest friends. And now he was… gone. Ian's eyes flickered to the BB gun laying on his desk and remembered when Jonas and his father had given it to him. Ian clenched his jaw and tried desperately to fight the tears that should have been coming, but they didn't. Just a feeling of emptiness.

"Yes!" Amata said, frantically looking back out the door, "And I heard my dad talking, they're gonna be coming for you next! You've got to go before they find you. There's a secret passage from the Overseer's office to the vault door. No one knows about that way; you can use this key to get into his office but you'll have to find a way to get the tunnel open. Maybe if you find a way onto his computer. Here, I took my dad's gun. Now go, hurry!"

He'd quickly pocketed the key, but Ian leapt to his feet as she pushed the gun into his hands. It was heavy, heavier than it looked. Ian could feel the coldness of the metal leaching warmth from his skin. With shaking hands he glanced back and forth between Amata and the gun.

"What am I…"he stammered out, "What am I supposed to do with this?

"Ian, if any of the security officers find you… They'll. Kill. You." She said, pronouncing the last three words with uncharacteristic intensity. "I don't want you to end up like Jonas, I don't."

Looking back down at the gun, Ian let out a long shaky breath. His hand hands were trembling and he felt dizzy.

"No," he pushed out between ragged breaths, "You take it, I don't want to kill anyone. I'll… I'll find another way. Just go, you don't want to get caught with me right now." Ian pushed the gun back into her hands and said, "Thanks, Amata."

With terror still floating in her eyes, Amata nodded and ran out of the room.

Ian stood there in a daze, listening to her footsteps fade in the distance. Once they had fallen silent, he shook himself and got to work. He grabbed his old backpack from beside the door and dumped the now-useless textbooks out onto the floor.

From there he tore open his dresser and stuffed his pair of extra jumpsuits into the backpack. Turning and scanning the room, Ian's eyes fell upon the small collection of memorabilia cluttering the top of his desk. His baseball equipment and the BB gun his dad had given him nine years ago along with what remained of the tin of BBs.

Ian shoved the baseball and mitt into his backpack, and stowed the BBs in his pocket. He slung the BB gun over his shoulder with the strap and gripped the bat tightly by the middle. Taking a deep breath he slunk out of his room and into the hallway. Ian quickly glanced back and forth, checking the halls, before heading off in the direction of the Overseer's office.

The halls were mostly silent except for his own footsteps and the distant skittering that Ian attributed to radroaches. That was why he was so surprised by Butch's appearance.

Butch appeared from one of the halls, looking around frantically. Ian jumped and tried to find something to hide behind, but he was spotted.

"Hey!" he called toward Ian, out of breath and sweating, "You gotta help me!"

Ian cursed quietly before meeting Butch's eyes with a stern glare. "I've got my own problems right now." Ian tried to slip away then, but Butch grabbed him by the shoulder and held him still.

"It's your dad, right? I heard he left, but the radroaches have my mom. You gotta help me save her," Butch pleaded.

Ian resigned himself to waiting until Butch released him, and said exasperatedly, "Can't you take care it on your own?"

Suddenly Butch released him and began to mutter, "I… I'm… Goddamn it! I'm scared of them, okay? Those damn roaches give me the creeps, you gotta help me."

Looking over his shoulder to make sure the hallway was still empty, Ian groaned, "Fine... Here, take this. Let's go take care of them." He handed Butch the baseball bat and swung the BB gun around.

Ian followed Butch for a short while until they reached his mother's rooms. From inside Ian could hear a woman screaming over the frantic scratching of radroaches.

Beside him, Butch was sucking in air and gazing straight ahead with a look of terrified determination.

"You ready for this," Ian muttered, loading the gun.

"Yeah," Butch moaned hollowly. From the corner of his eye, Ian could see that the blood had drained from Butch's face, leaving it deathly pale.

"Let's go," Ian spat out and leapt into the room. The first thing he noticed was a woman perched on top of the bed. She had an empty bottle in one hand and was trying to fend off the radroaches surrounding her.

Ian raised the gun and fired it on the nearest radroach. A spot of the insects shell cracked as the BB struck. Butch ran forward, brandishing the baseball bat, and slammed it down on another of the radroaches. It was crushed against the floor and a pale green liquid began leaking from its cracked shell.

Ian reloaded the BB gun and fired again. The radroach's already damaged shell exploded in a burst of brown and green. He started to reload again but before he could turn on the final radroach, Butch had crushed it.

The moment she realized the radroaches were gone, the woman pushed her way past the two of them and ran out into the anteroom.

Butch let out a pent up breath and turned to Ian with a relieved grin. "Oh man! Heh-he, we did it! Here, you can have this back," he said, handing the bat back to Ian. "I don't know what I can give you, you're the best!"

"That's fine," Ian said, trying to take a step toward the door, "I don't need anything…"

"Bullshit!" Butch spat out, grabbing him by the shoulder, "You saved my mom, man. I gotta give you somethin'!"

Butch looked around quickly, seeming to search for some kind of reward. "You know what? You can have my jacket, that's all I got, so… here!" Butch took his jacket off and tossed it to Ian.

Without saying another word, Butch ran out after his mom.

Carrying the jacket awkwardly under his arm, Ian slipped out past them and into main hallway. Once he had turned a couple corners and knew he was alone, Ian shoved the jacket into his backpack and moved on. The atrium was just a few blocks away, and then he'd reach the Overseer's office.

Ian headed up a stairwell, moving quickly. There were a few radroaches stalked the stairs, but Ian ignored them and ran past.

As he entered the hallway above, Ian heard a voice calling him from behind.

"Hey kid."

Turning around, he saw Officer Gomez standing there. Ian gave a start but the man didn't seem to be reaching for his gun.

"I'm sorry about all this," Gomez said, "I really am. I've known you and your dad for a long time. This whole thing just doesn't seem right to me, and I don't want any part of it."

Officer Gomez looked up and down the hallway quickly, then said, "Just get going and I'll say I never saw you."

Without saying another word, Gomez turned and walked away, disappearing around a corner after a few moments.

Ian shuddered. It hadn't sunk in until then, the idea that people he'd known his whole life might try to kill him. Luckily Gomez had let him go, because Ian didn't think he'd have been able to kill a friend of his father's, even if it was kill or be killed.

Ian shook his head and continued down the hallway. At one point he saw the vault's robot, Andy, fighting off at least a dozen radroaches with a flamethrower. Ian was careful to sneak past Andy without being spotted. Even the robot might turn him in, and Ian didn't want to risk that.

Once he had left the robot behind, Ian quickly found his way to the Atrium. As he entered the high-ceilinged room, Ian stopped dead at the nearby sound of voices. Before anyone could notice or recognize him, he leapt behind one of the metal pillars and held his breath.

Two voices were conversing on the far side of the room. Ian could hardly discern the words from this distance, but he quickly realized who they belonged to.

"Come on," Tom Holden said, excitement thick in his voice, "Let's make a run for it. James got out, and so can we."

"Are you sure Tom?" Mary replied, sounding uncertain, "Do we really want to leave the vault?"

"Of course, let's go!"

Ian heard the sound of running footsteps and couldn't help peeking around the pillar. Anyway, Tom and Mary seemed to have sided with his father, so they probably wouldn't try to turn him in.

Ian saw Tom dash into the tunnel, waving his arms and shouting, "Hey! It's me, Tom Holden! Let us through, we want out!"

Moments later Ian heard several gunshots and Mary screamed. She ran after her husband, a sobbing mess, shouting his name in anguish.

More gunshots.

Ian could feel the sweat beading up on his forehead and rolling down in streams. This was insanity, the guards were just killing people. Tom and Mary hadn't done anything wrong, but they'd been shot dead. Ian tried to swallow but his throat felt dry.

With shaking hands, Ian took a gulp of air and ran for it. Despite the fear and uncertainty coursing through him, Ian was able to keep his legs pumping long enough to reach the stairwell on the other side of the room. Even when he accidentally glanced down the hall after Tom and Mary, catching a glimpse of the two stagnant corpses, he kept moving. It wasn't until he reached the stairwell that Ian allowed himself to stop and breathe freely.

Ian climbed the stairs, holding the baseball bat tightly in both hands. He encountered six radroaches in the stairwell and by the time he reached the upper level, the bat was covered in broken bits of shell and grey-green blood.

Ian ran across the bridge and stopped as he heard his name being shouted. It was Allen Mack, pounding on the glass of his window. The man was yelling for the guards to come and that Ian was over here. He paused only momentarily to address Ian by telling he was to blame for this whole mess, him and his dad.

"People have died you know!" he shouted through the glass, "Died! All because your father had to go and leave! Guards… Guards! He's over here!"

Ian ran past the man, into a nearby hallway and straight into Officer Hannon. For a moment he hoped that the guard had an opinion similar to Gomez's, but the thought was quelled as Hannon reached for his gun.

Moving as quickly as he could, Ian brought the bat down on Hannon's wrist, producing a sharp snap. The man let out a cry of pain. Without pausing, Ian pushed past the man and ran further down the hallway. He turned at the first corner he could, and the second, hoping to lose the guard. But if Hannon pursued him, the man was easily thrown off a trail because the Ian didn't see a hair of the man, not even when he paused to catch his breath.

Ian made his way to the Overseer's office from there. He made an effort to avoid any other people. The few times he heard footsteps, Ian held his position until they passed or, the one time they'd seemed to be coming in his direction, he backtracked then navigated around the person.

Eventually he found himself the hallway leading to the office. He'd never really been down this way, though, since the only rooms in this portion of the vault were the security office, the Overseer's office, the vault detention center, and the Overseer's quarters. Amata's around here too, near to her father's, but Ian still had only been down this way a time or two despite his friend.

This time, he encountered something he hadn't before. As he passed the detention center, Ian heard voices. Usually those rooms were empty, except for the rare times someone actually did something worthy of being arrested for.

Curiosity overcame Ian and he crept nearer to the room, peering in through the cracked door. Inside he saw Officer Mack and the Overseer standing around someone. Ian couldn't quite make out who the third person was since the other two were standing in front.

"Why don't you just tell us where he is?" the Overseer said, he tone strict and harsh, seeming just barely under control, "All we want to do is talk to him."

Mack let out a sly cackle, saying, "Yeah, just talk. That's all we want."

"Amata," the Overseer continued, sending a shock down Ian's spine, "Officer Mack may enjoy this, but I don't. We won't hurt your friend. He's probably as scared and confused by this as we are. Nobody's going to do anything rash."

"Rash?" Amata spat out, "What about when you went to _talk_ with Jonas? You killed him!"

"This is a matter of vault security. It's all in the interest of the vault and of its citizens."

Ian saw Amata move and the two men stepped back suddenly.

"Amata!" the Overseer said, "I can't believe you would threaten me with my own gun! How did you even get that? Nevermind. Officer Mack, take that gun away from my daughter. We'll find him," he said, "whether or not you want to tell us. Mack, now!"

On the cue, Mack leapt forward with hands reaching for the gun. A loud crack told Ian that Amata had fired the gun, even though he wasn't sure he could believe it. Mack fell to the ground and was immediately still, blood pouring steadily from a wound in the center of his chest. The Overseer stepped back, his face the picture of horror.

"Amata…" he choked out, "What have you done?"

Amata started toward the door, but the Overseer was too quick.

"No! You… will… not…" the Overseer growled as he struggled against her.

Ian leapt into the room and grasped the Overseer by the shoulders, trying to tear him off of Amata. By the sheer advantage of surprise, Ian was able to overpower the Overseer in moments. As the Overseer fell away from Amata, Ian saw the shock in her eyes and simultaneously shouted for her to run. Amata seemed to obey without thought and darted out of the room.

However, as Ian turned to follow her, he felt a hand grab his shoulder and pull him back with surprising ferocity. Ian found himself facing a furious Overseer. They locked eyes for a moment and the Overseer bared his teeth in a maniacal snarl.

Only a slip of the Overseer's eyes prepared Ian for the man's mad dive for Mack's gun. Ian dropped the bat and leapt after him. Ian reached the gun just a moment after the Overseer had torn it from the dead man's holster. He was able to lock his hands around it just as the Overseer did, leaving them wrestling for control of the weapon. They rolled across the ground, fighting against each other. Ian felt himself land on the baseball bat, but he ignored the stabbing pain as he struggled. Ian saw the man's finger slipping against the trigger and it was all Ian could do to match him. Now both of them had access to the trigger, and either one of them could be the victor.

But not both.

That was made clear as Ian drove his knee into the Overseer's stomach. It was made clear as Ian forced the gun's barrel toward the Overseer's head and infinitely clearer as Ian pulled the trigger.

At first the only thing Ian registered was the feeling of warm wetness spread all across his face and hands. A feeling of confusion floated across Ian's mind as he wondered where the Overseer had gone and whether he had just picked up and left for some reason. Then Ian noticed the pair of hands still wrapped around the gun and bloody stump of a neck that remained.

Then Ian screamed.

He scrambled away from the body, feeling numb. But then all the feeling came back at once and Ian felt something coming up. He rolled over onto his side and spat out whatever still remained in his stomach from last night's meal. It wasn't much and Ian found himself staring at a pale pool of bile. He wanted to get up but his body didn't seem to be listening to him.

Finally he managed to get to his knees, then to a stooping crouch. Ian tried to stand up but he almost passed out before reaching his full height. Ian fell back down to the crouch and tried to move along by holding onto the edge of a table.

As he hobbled along, Ian couldn't help catching a glimpse of the Overseer's headless body. It just lay there, mangled and ruined. He'd done that…

Ian might have thrown up again, but the sound of footsteps in the hall sent him scrambling to his bat then out of the room. He stayed bent over until he reached the first turn, but Ian was able to stay upright by the time he'd reached the Overseer's office.

_The office of the man he'd killed._

Ian pulled the key from his pocket and opened the door quickly. Stepping inside he locked it and ran to the computer terminal. From the start Ian knew he'd be relying on the luck of either guessing the password or finding it written down somewhere.

Skipping to the second resource, Ian crossed his fingers and opened one of the desk drawers. He found nothing but a few pens and pencils. The next drawer was empty, and the two after that as well. Ian was about to despair before he noticed the trio of filing cabinets lining one wall. Moving quickly he searched the first, finding nothing.

The second cabinet yielded a slip of paper that said,

_Terminal Password: AMATA_

With shaking hands, Ian returned to the terminal and typed the password in, feeling a small jolt of guilt shoot though him as he typed his friend's name in.

_He'd killed her father._

The password screen fell away and Ian selected the obvious _Open Overseer's Tunnel_ option. The floor began to shift and Ian had to hold onto the desk in order to keep from losing his balance. With a sudden start, Ian realized that the section of floor he stood on was sinking. It fell below the rest of the room and set Ian down in a whole new room.

The walls were dirty and the tunnel in a state of abandon. Rust marked some of the metal and Ian noticed half a dozen radroaches lurking in various shadows. He ran past them and flung open the door at the end of the tunnel.

Ian ran out into the next room and was surprised to find himself staring at the vault door. It was huge, at least fifteen feet tall. Ian quickly ran to the controls but paused with his hand on the large red "_Unseal Vault Door" _button. Pressing the button meant leaving the vault behind, forever. There would be no way to get back in, and no one who would welcome him.

It was that thought that decided him and forced his hand. No one would welcome him back once he left, but would he really be welcome if he stayed? His best friend would undeniably hate him, if not now then as soon as she learned of what he had done. What he'd done… he'd killed a man. Ian might have thrown up again if there was anything left in him. Nevertheless, Ian's stomach did a backflip and his throat burned.

He couldn't stay, that definitely wasn't an option. Not anymore.

Ian pressed the button.

An earsplitting siren burst to life even as the great vault door began to twist open. It took almost a minute for the door to be pulled away from the wall, but eventually Ian was granted an unabated view of the world outside. All he could see was the inside of a darkened cavern, not comforting.

Ian walked around the console, down the stairs and toward the opening. He paused there for a moment, savoring his last taste of the vault.

Suddenly the door behind him burst open, one he'd overlooked upon entering. Amata came through, still holding her father's gun. Ian saw that her eyes were red from crying and the guilt surged up stronger than ever.

She crossed the intervening space quickly and pushed the gun flat against his chest, hard. Ian grabbed it, half grateful that she would still give it to him and half scared she would change her mind and use it on him if he hesitated.

Her voice was a whisper, but he could feel the barely contained fury coursing through the words.

"Go. Just go," she said hollowly, "Just leave. There are guards coming this way, I guess I've been your friend long enough to let you know."

"Amata…" Ian murmured, "I'm sorry, it was…" but she cut him off.

"You didn't have to kill him!" she screamed at him, "He's not a bad man, wasn't… You had no right to!" Amata stopped talking, seemingly with great effort. She stood there almost shaking with hatred, but she just whispered, "Get out," and that was all she said.

Amata turned away from him and started to walk back to the door, but suddenly two security guards ran into the room, followed closely by a third. All three held guns and the first through fired his.

Time seemed to slow as Ian saw Amata thrown backward by the force of the bullet. Her feet were raised off the ground and she did a slow spin in the air. Amata landed face down and slid for a few inches.

Ian raised the Overseer's gun and pulled the trigger three times. The foremost guard fell, and Ian saw the second drop his gun. The last man through the door managed to fire off two shots at Ian, causing him to duck behind cover, but not before one of the bullets clipped his arm.

Ian hissed at the pain, trying to push it away from himself. There were other things to focus on right now, things that were more important by far. He was being shot at, he had probably killed at least two men, he needed to escape, he needed to find his father, and Amata was shot. She was shot, bleeding, maybe dying.

Ian looked down at her and felt a rage rise up in him. He leapt suddenly from cover and fired on the single remaining guard. He managed to catch the man, who he recognized as now Officer Wolfe, unawares and Ian shot him in the shoulder.

Officer Wolfe fell to the ground, clutching the wound.

As soon as Wolfe was disposed of, Ian dropped down beside Amata. Rolling her over, Ian sighed when he realized the bullet had only clipped her, missing any major organs he knew of. She was still bleeding, though. A bright red puddle glistened where she had lain.

Ian decided that, despite the relatively safe location of the wound, it was still life-threatening. She could still die, if only from blood loss.

And the vaults only doctor was gone.

Ian felt his blood run cold as that thought surfaced. His father was gone, the only vault resident with medical training. If he left Amata here, she would definitely die. It would be as bad as killing her himself.

But he couldn't do that to her, take her from her home without a choice. That would be just like kidnapping her.

Ian heard footsteps approaching from somewhere within the vault. Someone shouted something. They were growing closer. Ian thought he heard someone cock a gun.

Kidnapping was better than killing her, if only barely. Ian swallowed the lump in his throat and made a decision. He shoved the gun into his pocket and picked Amata up as gently as he could.

Even as the door opened, Ian was running out into the dark tunnel. Sprinting out into the darkness, Ian felt something push against him, shoving him forward, but he ignored it to the best of his abilities. He had to escape.

Behind him, he could hear the siren going off again and the grinding gears of the great metal door sliding shut.

They were cut off, sealed out, all alone. Effectively in exile.

Ian ran to the end of the tunnel, then fumbled with the doorknob for a moment before the door's hinges gave way and he stumbled out into the light.

And what light it was!

All around, burning down from above. Ian's eyes squinted almost shut as the burning rays flooded his vision. For what could've been the first time in his life, Ian felt warmth on his skin.

"It's too, bri…" Amata murmured. Ian looked down at her, and saw that though her eyes were closed, they seemed to be trying to shut tighter.

Ian held her in his arms with one arm behind her back and one arm under her knees. If he'd been able to, Ian would've put her down and tried to patch her wound. That is, if he was sure he' d be strong enough to pick her back up after setting her down. The wound in his arm, while seeming insignificant at the time, was starting to burn and ache. What scared him more than the pain was the fact that his fingers were going numb.

No, he couldn't put her down, couldn't put a bandage on or do anything to stop the bleeding. The best he could do was find help. Surely he could find _someone_ out here, anyone who could help.

Ian tried to run but soon found himself fighting for balance as he descended the gravelly slope. It turned into a half crouched descent as he did anything he could to not fall. Eventually Ian reached the bottom, and then he began to run.

For as long as he could, anyway. The flat ground only continued for a couple dozen feet, then uneven terrain prevailed. It stretched on as far as he could see in any direction, though Ian had to admit that he couldn't see very far. Between the terrible brightness and the worrying haze that seemed to be settling down over his eyes, he couldn't see much farther than fifty feet in any given direction.

The whole while, Amata murmured in his arms. Sometimes she would make delirious comments on things that they both experienced, like the strange heat or the blinding light. Other times she seemed to talk to someone who wasn't there, or simply speaking in nondescript phrases, fragments of sentences that had no explicit meaning on their own. _I am_, or _those_, or even once _where did it_.

What really terrified Ian was when Amata started shivering despite the heat. That was when he started running again. He screamed too, as much as he could. The first time he tried to speak, the only thing that came out was a hoarse croak of a shout. The second time it was a much smaller sound and the third time even more so.

Soon enough he was doing no more than stumbling through the wilderness, moaning and grunting. At one point Ian realized he was no longer aware of Amata's presence. A jolt shot through him, until he looked down and confirmed that she was still there. Even looking straight at her, Ian couldn't feel her.

As the exhaustion settled over him, Ian's stumbling run turned to a painful stagger. Half limping and half shambling, Ian moved sluggishly through the haze. His vision had decreased again. Now he could only see a few feet ahead, less than a dozen. Strange noises filled his ears, moaning sounds that seemed faraway and distorted, like how noises seemed when heard underwater.

Water, that would be good. He was so _thirsty_. His tongue could've been coated in dust. It felt thick in his mouth, like it didn't belong there.

Something swam into Ian's field of vision, a dark shape, and another. Several shadowy figures. One was big, huge and massive. The other two were smaller. Yes, there were… three of them. Maybe they would help. Help with what? What did he need help with? Something important, yes, certainly that. But what? What could be so important?

Father… his father was gone. Where had he… she? Someone was hurt… she was hurt. Who was she? A… ama… who? Ama…

Ian collapsed and faded from consciousness.

* * *

If this is intriguing and you want more of it, make sure you leave a review to boost its chances of getting a speedy update.

If you're interested in reading the competition, here are the links:

s/9185905/1/A-Visitor-from-the-Vault

s/9185899/1/Inkspot-Stigma


	2. The Atomic Town

Well, Company in Exile wins this round. Keep up the reviews so you can get your next update even quicker. Hope you enjoy.

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The light came slowly, starting first as a slit and widening until Ian could see the whole room around him. It was dim light, provided by a single bulb that dangled from the veiling by a cord. A dull luminance poured from the bulb, painting the room with dingy light and leaving weak shadows in the corners.

Ian sat up slowly in the bed, causing it to let out a squeal. Ian hardly noticed it though, since an unexpected twinge of pain caused him to groan and clutch his right shoulder. Looking down at it, Ian was surprised to find a thick patch of scar tissue with a dip in the middle. Sliding his fingers over the scar and feeling the pit wonderingly, Ian's fingers suddenly leapt to the back of his shoulder and found another mass of extra thick skin.

Ian shuddered and tried to work his shoulder around in the socket. The stab of pain was less this time, since he had been expecting it. Just a slight pinch, easily ignorable.

He looked around, first at the bed itself for a few moments, but his gaze quickly moved on to survey the rest of the room. There wasn't much to see, but each thing he saw was like a molten syringe jetting a single realization into his system over and over again.

Ian saw a three leveled shelf that was covered in rust. A variety of small objects littered its surfaces including a wooden handled knife, a scratched ceramic plate, and a bleached skull that had apparently belonged to some kind of horned animal.

The shelf screamed at him, specifically the rust. There was never rust in the vault. The first time he'd seen rust was on the great vault door. Other than that he'd only read about it in books. The animal skull was disturbing as well. The only animal Ian had ever seen were the occasional radroaches, but this was obviously something else entirely.

From his place in the bed, Ian examined the other furnishings and aspects of the room: a battered coffee table, a doorway set at the far end of the room, and a bed across from his. From where he was, Ian couldn't see any details of the person's face but he could recognize the back of Amata's head sticking out of the blankets.

The guilt was a smack in the face. He'd taken Amata from her home. Stolen her from a safe place. All on a whim, a moment's decision. And he'd killed her father. Murdered him while she was trying to help him escape. Ian thought he might throw up, thinking about all he'd done to his friend.

Instead he took a shaky breath and got out of the bed. A momentary look proved his suspicion, Ian was naked except for his underwear. His gaze swept through the room again, quickly coming upon the Vault-issue backpack leaning against the foot of the bed. He tore it open and quickly began pulling on one of the clean jumpsuits.

As he dressed, something occurred to Ian. His backpack was here, with the two jumpsuits, the baseball, the mitt, and Butch's jacket. But he couldn't see any of his other stuff. No pistol, no bat, not even the BB gun remained.

In a few moments he had dressed and was wondering what to do next. He wasn't able to wonder for long, though, since a man walked in through the doorway just a few seconds later. He dark skin that was sharply contrasted by the short cut white hair that covered his head and chin. A stethoscope hung around his neck, marking him a doctor.

"So you're finally awake, how 'bout the other one?" the man said in weary tones, glancing over at Amata's sleeping form, "Guess not. Let me take a look at your wound." Ian unzipped the jumpsuit slightly and showed the doctor his shoulder. It seemed to be healed and the doctor said so.

Ian stood silent for a short moment after the man finished speaking. For the slightest amount of time, he just stared at the man and at the room beyond him. Then Ian began to speak.

"How is she? Uh, doctor, is Amata okay?" The doctor responded with, "Ah, your friend will be fine. She had a bullet wound but I've taken care of that already. Now it's just a question of when she'll wake up. Her body is still weak from the accelerated recovery.

Another question sparked in Ian's mind, nagging at him. "How long has it been? How long I been… unconscious?" The doctor sighed and said, "Two days, well… almost three, now. More like two and a half. Now do you have any more questions, because I _do_ have other patients to attend to."

Ian shook his head and watched the man start to go. The doctor paused for a moment before leaving the room. He said, "Oh yeah, the fees for the two of you totaled to two hundred and thirty caps, but Moira Brown took care of them for you. Before doing anything else, I'd suggest talking to her." Ian nodded and the man walked off into another room, out of Ian's sight.

"Caps…?" Ian murmured to himself, looking back at Amata's sleeping form. The resulting was the same stab of guilt that seemed to come whenever he thought of his friend. Turning away, Ian grabbed his backpack from the foot of the bed and walked away.

Ian left the building and immediately pulled his hand up to shade his eyes. The light burned and left him blind for a few moments. Eventually his vision started to become clearer, losing its painful blurriness by the second.

Ian walked down the metal ramp, still shading his eyes, and onto a surface of packed dirt. It was hard and dry, packed and seamless except for the deep spider-webbing fissures that came from constant sun heating. As he walked, Ian could feel the ground's heat seeping through the thin soles of his vault issue shoes. He decided then and there to get something better, boots or at least something thicker than the insubstantial cloth slippers he wore now. Ian wasn't sure how far he could go if his feet were constantly broiling.

Ian gazed around the town wonderingly, taking in the colors of rust and dirt through his sun-weakened eyes. Moira Brown. That was who he had to talk to, but who was she? And where?

Ian saw a person walking past and called out to him, "Hey! Could you help me…" The baldheaded man glared at Ian and quickly cut him off with a scathing bark of, "Help yourself yah Vault pussy!" Without having actually stopped moving, the man walked off and left Ian standing there. For a moment Ian considered saying something to the man, but the rifle slung over his shoulder froze the words in Ian's through.

A friendly chuckle sounded from behind Ian and caused him to spin around. "Don't mind Jericho," the man said, "He might act pretty rough, but I don't think he'd actually hurt you." Ian looked up at the man, who was several inches taller, and found his gaze drawn to the black leather eye patch he wore. Besides that, a faded bandana, rough leather clothes, and a welcoming grin marked the man. "You're that kid Moira found out by the Vault aren't yah? You and that girl. The names Billy Creel, if you need anything you can go ahead and talk to me."

The mention of Moira spurred Ian to speak, "Yeah, um, could you help me find Moira."

"Sure thing, she's usually up at her shop all day, Craterside…" Billy paused for a moment and said, "Ah, Nevermind, I'll just show you the way there. Come on, follow me."

Ian did just that and Billy led him across the scorched ground and up a series of metal ramps. They went past several tattered buildings, among which a few were obviously homes. At one point, Billy stopped and pointed at a largish two story house. "That's where I live, me and Maggie. You need anything, you come talk to me." Ian nodded and Billy led on.

From there they went straight to a building with a sign proclaiming it to be "Craterside Supply"

"We'll," Billy said, "Here we are, Moira runs this place. Catch ya' later." At that, Billy walked away, down a ramp and quickly disappeared from sight.

Ian put his hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath and entered. The interior of the building was dim, a relief for Ian's sun-strained eyes. The only light came from a single lantern on a coffee table and the thin beams that floated down from above.

At first glance, Ian only saw two people in the room. Behind the counter was a brown haired woman wearing an engineer's jumpsuit. A name tag on the left breast had **Frank A. **stenciled on, but at some point it had been crossed out with a black marker. Below, the name _Moira B._ was written sloppily with what seemed to be the same marker.

Across the counter from her, there was an elderly man with patchy white hair. His skin looked old and tough despite the wrinkles that crawled across it. Hidden among the deep set wrinkles was an obviously unhappy scowl.

"It was supposed to be here by now!" the man whined at her.

"Oh, now don't worry Nathan. I'm sure your parts will be here any day now, "she said with cheerful assurance.

The man, Nathan, grumbled then turned away from her without a word and headed for the door. As he passed Ian, then man muttered something about "American duty" and disappeared out the door and into the blinding light.

With a relieved chuckle, Moira turned away from Ian and said, "Whew, am I glad he's gone. Nathan just gives me the willies with all that talk about the enclave." From a deep shadow in the corner, Ian heard a course grunt and a man's voice said, "You've got company."

Only then did Ian see the third person, the man standing in the corner with a gun sticking over his shoulder. His arms were crossed over each other, with a smoldering cigarette balancing between the fingers of one hand. Dark hair hung over his eyes, but Ian could still see the man's piercing glare, watching his every movement, waiting for him to become a threat.

The man was dangerous; everything about him seemed to scream that. Something in the way he lounged against the wall said that he didn't need to be prepared or even particularly alert to handle any threat.

An excited sounding voice tore Ian's eyes away from the man in the corner. They flew back to Moira and found her looking at him with a very… _fascinated_ was the word. A very fascinated look on her face.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "You're awake! Finally! How is the other one, the girl? Is she awake yet?"

Ian shook his head and Moira slowed down for a moment to express concern before beginning the cheerful tirade again.

"You're from the vault, aren't you? The two of you… I recognized the jumpsuit. I'll tell you, I haven't seen one of those for a _long_ time. Would you mind answering a few questions for me? I'm writing a book, you see, and a preface from a real live vault dweller would be quite a preface indeed! Now what do you say?"

The wave of words subsided for a moment. Ian felt out of breath just by listening to the woman speak. He stood silent for a moment, trying to translate the rushed words into something he could actually understand. Then, with Moira looking at him expectantly, Ian agreed to answer a few questions.

"Oh splendid!" she said, practically overflowing with enthusiasm, "Okay, well… first question. Why did you leave? I guess that's as good a place to start as any."

Ian dug through his memories, trying to push away the guilt and regret and to sort the relevant parts from the otherwise. "I'm chasing after my dad, I guess," was all he could think to say at first, "He left in the middle of the night and… well I couldn't stay anymore after that."

"Oh…" Moira said sadly, shaking her head, "What a sad start. But what about the girl?"

"Amata," he said simply, "and I'm Ian. Well, she didn't want to leave. She's my friend and she was… she was helping me escape." As he recounted their last moments in the vault, Ian felt the guilt stabbing at him anew. "She got shot…" he had to pause for a moment, "She got shot and I had to bring her with me. My dad was the doctor, and if I didn't bring her…" she would still be there, in the vault, with her friends if not her father. All his fault. "…she would've died," Ian finished.

"Such a tragedy," Moira said sympathetically, "I'm sure she'll forgive you… given enough time."

The room was quiet for a moment, still and silent until the man in the corner coughed softly and Moira seemed to snap out of her somber mood. "Well, on to question two. What do you think of Megaton so far? Not just the buildings, I mean the people, the location, everything!" Moira concluded with a grin.

"I haven't seen much of it, I've only been conscious for about twenty minutes." Ian said, but upon seeing the disappointed look on her face he immediately added, "It seems fine so far. I'll let you know when I've seen more of it."

The disappointment faded and she continued the questioning. Moira asked his opinion on everything from the humidity to the color of the sky, and couldn't be appeased until he had been wrung dry of his thoughts on the subject.

Finally the questions came to a close and after a short silence Ian began to speak again, "The doctor said you paid for our bills. Why?"

"It's simple really. If I let you die, who knows when I'd have another chance to talk to a vault dweller. The last one to come through here was ten years ago, and she was in such a rush that she didn't want to answer my questions. But speaking of questions, I do want to get that money back, if not in a direct manner. I've got some more questions, beside the ones I've already asked you. The only thing is, you don't know the answers… yet."

Suspicions rose in Ian, and he had to ask, "What are you driving at?"

"When I found you, I was out doing some research on wild Brahmin. The only problem is that, unlike you, I'm not one for danger or conflict."

"And you think I am?" Ian demanded in disbelief.

"Well… I did find you with a bullet wound, and you survived that so you've got experience that I don't. But don't worry, it won't be dangerous. I've just got a few research opportunities that are a bit too… um… exciting… for my tastes. Nothing much. I'll pay you the same I'd pay a research assistant, plus a bonus if you bring me anything really good."

"But…" Ian began but Moira cut him off.

"I've got three interesting research opportunities, and once you check them out for me you'll be free to go."

Ian moaned quietly, but apparently Moira heard him.

"Oh stop complaining," she said dismissively, "This is all going into that book I told you about. Okay, well the first one is simply testing a mole-rat repellant I've worked up. For your convenience I went ahead and made an applicator. Just test it on a few of them and let me know how it works."

"Go on," Ian said. He had no idea what mole-rats were, but they didn't sound pleasant. Maybe the next one would be better.

"Okay, well here's an exciting one. Apparently there's a ghost town north of here called Minefield. I'm sure there aren't any ghosts there, but I'd like to get a look at one or two of those landmines. Maybe if I took a few apart I'd be able to put in a chapter about them."

"Hmm, landmines," Ian said, his voice disguising the growing terror he was feeling, "What about the third one?"

"Collecting food in the wasteland." Moira said matter-of-factly, "Food's pretty scarce out here in the wasteland, but if people can find little pockets of prewar food they should be able to survive. Your job would be to check out an old prewar grocery store and see if those little pockets are still around or if they've been all cleaned out."

"That one actually sounds reasonable," Ian said, surprised.

"What, are you saying the other ones weren't?" demanded Moira, sounding hurt.

"Are you kidding!" Ian wanted to say, but instead he just pretended he had been the crazy one and that they were perfectly sane things to do.

"Oh, well in that case you should go talk to Sheriff Simms. He's been holding your weapons to make sure you didn't try and make a run for it. You should try looking for him down by Moriarty's. I think I heard him say he was gonna be looking in on him today. Who knows how long _that'll_ take?"

Ian nodded and left, heading toward the saloon Billy had shown him. It took him a while to reach the place because he kept getting lost in the spider web of ramps. It seemed at one point that Ian was just a few feet from the place, but after circling around again and again on the ramp system he found himself at the front door close to a half hour later.

Opening the door, Ian felt as if he had been punched in the face by the heavy fog of smoke that hung in the air. Ian coughed and stepped inside, waving the air in front of him so he could breathe. The light was dim, just barely enough to see by.

It took a near minute for Ian's eyes to adjust from the blinding light to the murky dimness of this place. He took a step forward and found himself face to face with a woman. She had messy red hair that was cut short, and wore a tan jacket that didn't hide much.

"Hi," she said in a charmingly husky voice, "Did you come by for a drink? Or were you looking for a little something else?"

"I'm looking for Lucas Simms," Ian said solidly, purposefully maintaining eye contact, "I was told I could find him here."

She laughed, "Sheriff's not here kid, probably back at his house."

"Oh, could you tell me where that is?" Ian said, more than half expecting a response like Jericho's.

She laughed again and said, "Sure thing kid," before continuing on to give Ian directions to the sheriff's house. Having finished that, she walked away and sat back in a chair that faced the door.

Ian turned back toward the door and started to leave, but a voice calling from an adjoining room made him pause.

"Hey, you in the jumpsuit, "the voice said, "Come here, I have something to discuss with you."

Ian looked once between the door and the voice and opted to approach the room. Having waded through the smoke, Ian found himself alone in a small room with a man wearing a grey suit.

"Have a seat," the man said, gesturing to a nearby chair. Ian sat and the man began speaking immediately.

"I couldn't help but notice your jumpsuit and I thought, 'this man is from a vault, one of the last remnants of true society. If anyone in this place has an ounce of intelligence and refinement, it would him'. You see, I have a certain… proposal… that I could only relay to an individual of your… caliber."

"Go on," Ian said, "I'm listening." He was, but not wholeheartedly. Something in the man's manner or visage sparked suspicion. Maybe it was as simple as the opaque glasses that hid his eyes, or the fact that his voice fell just short of a menacing growl no matter how calm he seemed.

"Ah, I knew you would be intrigued. You see, my employer noticed this scrap heap some time ago and charged me with… removing it."

Ian's suspicion skyrocketed.

"And how would I fit into the equation," Ian said calmly, hoping that the meekness would hide his inner panic. What was he going to do? This man wanted to _"remove"_ the town, and he wanted Ian's help. What was he going to do?

"There is only so much that a man such as myself can do to dirty my hands. Only so far he could go before a compatriot would be made necessary to undertake such… matters."

"You want me to do your dirty work." Ian said matter-of-factly, continuing on before the man could, "What _kind_ of dirty work? I need to know what I'm getting myself into."

The man grinned.

"Understandable. Respectable. Have you seen the bomb these _people_ have built their town on top of?"

Ian had. While climbing around the network of ramps, he couldn't help but notice the bomb that lay embedded in the town center. He'd seen it in the corner of his eye as he left the hospital and it always seemed to be there, waiting for something.

"Of course I have," Ian said briskly, "What about it?"

"A careless choice, this location location. One more act of _carelessness_ and this rubble could be… cleared away."

"You want an explosion," Ian said, barely able to hide his shock as the man nodded, "What makes you think I could manage something like that?"

"Me and my employer have taken care of that," the man said, producing a tangle of wires and circuits from a pocket of his coat, "Just open the operating hatch, drop this in, then report to us at Tenpenny tower in the southwest."

The man handed Ian the "thing" and waved a hand. "Go," he said, "There will be a substantial reward awaiting you in the tower."

Ian pocketed the thing, stood, and walked away without looking back. He left the building and headed along the ramps. He stared at the bomb for a few moments as he walked, then consciously looked away from it for the remainder of his walk. Eventually he found himself at the sheriff's house.

Ian knocked on the door, and about a minute later it opened. A tall, dark skinned man wearing a leather duster and a matching hat appeared. A gold star marked him as the sheriff. There was a visible absence of nonsense in the man's eyes. He was imposing, to say the least.

"What is it?" the man, Lucas Simms, said gruffly. He paused for a moment, seeming to recognize Ian, then added, "I suppose you're here to get your things. Have you been to see Moira yet?"

Ian nodded and the man disappeared back into the house for a moment. He returned with the bat and BB gun clutched in one huge hand and the gun in the other.

"Here they are, but don't go causing any trouble."

As Lucas Simms handed over the weapons, Ian burst out, "There's a man in Moriarty's who wanted me to rig the bomb to explode. He gave me this."

The outburst caught the sheriff by surprise and he paused with the BB gun and bat still in his hand. Ian pulled the thing from his pocket and showed it to the man.

"Jesus! Give me that thing!" Lucas Simms snatched the bundle of wires from Ians grasp and tossed the bat and rifle onto a table that Ian could see through the doorway. "Come with me, take me to him."

However much the sheriff said for Ian to lead him there, Lucas Simms didn't do much following. The man nearly ran the whole way there forcing Ian to dash ahead of him in order to reach the building first. Lucas Simms paused outside, pulling the rifle from its place at his shoulder. "Where is he?" the man asked.

"In the room off to the right, sitting in one of the chairs." Ian informed him.

The sheriff nodded and growled the name, "Burke…" before throwing open the door and entering. Ian slipped in the door behind him and followed over to the small adjoined room.

Burke was still sitting there, irked patience carved into his face. The man didn't seem to react to the sheriff approaching, and just kept staring through the large man and his gun.

"Dammit Burke! You're tryin' to blow up my town!" Simms roared, pointing the barrel halfway toward the man.

Burke, holding onto his patient face despite the rage in his voice, said softly, "I'm sure there's been a misunderstanding. You see, I thought I'd found a suitable intellect in this boy and I attempted to engage him in a passing conversation on the internal mechanics of wartime technologies, but I guess it must've gone over his head."

"Nevertheless," the sheriff growled, "You'll have to come with me until we can get this whole thing straightened out."

"I'm afraid I really can't accompany you, _sheriff_," he said, emphasizing his disdain for the title, "I have other pressing matters at hand."

"And _I'm_ afraid that you really have no choice in the matter. You're in _my_ town, you're coming with me. Get moving."

Burke growled something and started to stand from the chair. Lucas Simms turned to lead him away, but Ian caught sight of the dull metal of a gun sticking out of his pocket. Ian saw Burke's hand moving toward the weapon, and he saw his hand delve into the pocket.

Moving quickly, Ian's hand shot for his own gun and drew it out a moment before Burke. His bullet left the barrel a moment before Burke's and drove itself through the man's wrist even as he began to pull his own trigger.

Time had frozen, allowing the whole thing to happen in the blink of an eye. Time began again, moving frantically fast in an effort to catch up.

Burke roared in pain. Burke's gun fired. Blood shot from the hole in Burke's wrist. Burke dropped his gun. Lucas Simms spun around, his gun raised and ready to fire. The people in the bar reacted, half of them reaching for weapons while the other half cowered away from the gunshots. Burke fell backward into the chair, clutching his ruined arm and spitting out obscenities.

"That's a quick hand you've got there," Lucas Simms said, the relief audible in his voice, "You saved my life with it. Saved the town with it."

The sheriff reached into his pocket and pulled out two things, handing them to Ian. The first was an old tarnished key, and the other was a gold star that closely resembled Simms's own.

"The key's for that old house above the brass lantern. Least I can do for saving my life and helping me capture Burke. We could use that kind of help, the town could. That's what the badge's for. If you'll stick around after Moira's done with you, well… we could use another deputy."

"Thanks," was all Ian could think to say as he looked at the badge for another moment before pocketing it.

"Think on it," the sheriff said, tucking Burke's gun into his pocket and grabbing the man by his neck, "Besides, if you're gonna make it out here, you'll need something to protect and something to protect you. You'll find both here."

Lucas Simms left after that, dragging Burke out with him.

Ian left just moments afterward, but the sheriff was nowhere to be seen. Ian headed back to Craterside Supply, traversing the spider web of ramps until he was back at the building.

Going inside, Ian found that it was just Moira and the man in the corner.

"Oh, you're back!" Moira said cheerily, "You got your weapons from Lucas Simms?"

"Yeah," Ian said, thinking regretfully about the bat he'd forgotten to return for. The BB gun really was a poor weapon, but the bat could be decent. Too bad. "I got my gun," he concluded.

"Oh good," she said.

"Now I just need a map or directions or something," Ian said. He didn't _really_ want to go wandering around, hoping to find the place he was looking for.

"No need," Moira said, "Markus knows the way, and since he'll be going with you, there's really no need for me to tell both of you."

At the mention of the name Markus, the man in the corner jerked his head over toward Moira and protested. "What? No way am I gonna go off and do any of your bullshit suicide research."

Moira turned to face the man, saying admonishingly, "Of course you won't be doing any actual research. You'll just be doing what you do best, guarding. Just make sure he doesn't die or disappear once he gets outside the walls, that shouldn't be so hard."

"Sure I can keep tabs on him," the man, Markus, said, "It's the other part I've got a problem with. How am I supposed to keep him alive if he's waltzing around, wearing fucking pajamas and carrying a peashooter! It's hard enough keeping yourself alive when you're not stuck towing around dead weight!"

"Alright, fine," Moira said, giving in, "I get it, I'll loan him some better gear. Will that make you happy?"

"No, I'm not happy to be leading a goddamn kitten through that shithole, but this is a hell of a lot better in my book."

Moira sighed and said, "Well, get your things. I'll loan him some stuff, so long as you make sure he doesn't run off with it."

Markus left the room and Ian could hear him rummaging through something in the other room.

"Well, sweetie," Moira said cheerfully, turning to Ian, "I guess you'll be getting some loaners for this trip. I've got a few things in mind, but do you have any requests?"

Ian stood frozen for a moment before looking down at his feet, then back at her and saying, "Shoes, or boots, or something."

"Hmm, boots," Moira said thoughtfully, "That gives me an idea."


	3. Darkness

Sorry for the long wait but I fell out of my stride for a couple weeks and was pretty unproductive. I've just about worked out a system and for the next few months I should have an update every sunday.

Oh and a warning, this story is going to be divided into several parts. Part one will be ending at chapter seven or eight, maybe nine. It all depends how long the plot goes. After that I'm going to take a hiatus from this story for a little while, work on some of my backlog of ideas.

The hiatus's between parts are because this story is going to be extraordinarily long, as in sixty something chapters most likely. Writing this story is always exciting for me but between the length of chapters and the number of chapters, I won't be able to do the whole thing in one go. However, I'll still be thinking about it during the break, working out the plot, smoothing things out, creating an all around better story.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. I'll leave you to your reading.

* * *

Moira chattered idly as she withdrew a variety of things from certain nooks around the room. A pair of boots had been hanging, laces tied together, from a nail on the wall. Some compartment beneath the counter supplied her with two cardboard boxes of bullets, .32's and 10 mms. She found a rifle with a wooden stock and a flashlight made mostly from duct tape on a cluttered array of shelves. Two canteens on a cord came after a stained green bedroll.

When she'd finished, Moira looked down at the equipment littering her counter and mumbled to herself, checking the list she had apparently devised inside her own head. After a few moments she seemed to be happy with the equipment she'd provided and Moira said to Ian, "I think that's all you'll need. Here," she said, handing him a bundle of clothes, "Head upstairs and get into these. Leave your backpack and I'll see what I can do about getting this in there, just remember, I want these things back so don't go losing them if you're not up for paying."

Ian took the worn feeling clothes and left the room, passing Markus on his way up the stairs. Once there, Ian realized disappointedly that there was no private area or even fully separate room. Standing in the most secluded corner he could find, Ian hastily stripped off his jumpsuit and threw on the clothes as fast as he could. Moira had given him a faded shirt that had once been a dark shade of grey, a pair of scratchy brown pants that didn't quite fit, and, thankfully, a pair of glasses with dark lenses.

Ian descended the stairs with the jumpsuit wadded up in his hands. He was barefoot, and the metal floor felt especially cool against the uncalloused soles of his feet. Ian returned to the main room and found the contents of his backpack lying on the counter, having been replaced with the new equipment.

Ian dropped his jumpsuit atop the pile and grabbed the boots. They were heavy, but Ian was pleased to see the thick rubber soles. He crouched down and yanked them on, tying the laces clumsily.

Once he had donned the boots, Ian grabbed his filled-to-bursting backpack and threw it over his shoulders. The pistol went into one of his pockets and Ian slung the rifle went over his shoulder. Ian could feel the equipment in his backpack, weighing him down in a way textbooks never had. The bedroll was tied on top while the canteens dangled down one side.

"Alright," Markus said from his shadowy vantage point in the corner of the room, "Let's get this over with."

As Ian watched, the man dropped his cigarette and ground it out with the toe of his boot. That being done, he grabbed a dark leather knapsack from by his foot and headed for the door with a slow sauntering gait. He moved like an animal about to attack.

Ian turned to follow him, but Moira spoke before he'd gone more than a step.

"I went ahead and left that jacket in there," she said with a slight chuckle, "Wouldn't want the _tunnel snake_ getting cold out there."

"Yeah, uh, thanks," Ian said, remembering the awkward gift. He wished that stupid jacket would just disappear. All it did was remind him of the vault and of Butch, bringing both pangs of homesickness and bad childhood memories. Maybe he could manage to lose it somehow.

Moira cheerfully insisted that it was the least she could do, and Ian followed the dangerous man out of the building. Once outside, Ian donned the glasses and sighed at the immediate relief.

Though the world was at least a dozen shades dimmer, Ian could see Markus already halfway down a nearby ramp. Obviously, the man wasn't going to wait for him to catch up.

Ian hurried ahead until he was walking near the man and followed a few steps behind. Unlike Ian's previous solo expedition across the ramps, it took less than a minute for them to reach the massive gate that apparently led to the outside world. It was huge, standing several times taller than a man and covered in a thick sheathe of rust from top to bottom.

As they neared, the gate began to move with a shuddering creak. Soon enough it had opened enough to reveal a dully colored landscape that seemed to stretch forever. Halfhearted hints of life were spread thinly across the dead landscape. For the most part, the only breaks in the brownish ocean of dirt were filled with the blackened corpses of trees and lines of jagged half-submerged boulders that reminded Ian of dirty grey teeth.

Nothing moved, that Ian could see, and it seemed as if the whole place had just been subjected to a fiery assault which had decimated the land and eradicated its population.

Of course, that was exactly what had happened.

Markus continued in the lead, marching out into the wasteland in his wolfish manner. Within moments he had taken the gun down from his back and replaced it with the knapsack. Ian mirrored him as best he could, arming himself with Moira's rifle.

They marched along, silent except for the dry crunches of boots on dead foliage, baked dirt, and even the occasional sun-bleached bone. Markus led them away from the town, north northwest by the judgment of Ian's pip-boy. The air was hot, as it had been the whole day, but Ian began to notice it more in the silence.

Suddenly it wasn't silent, though. A hissing noise sprouted up from behind them and suddenly Markus was fully alert. The man spun around and immediately the hiss was drowned in a cacophony of crackling explosions. Ian spun in time to see a monster fall with a cluster of bloody perforations in its skull. The thing shrieked for a moment, but had fallen silent before it hit the ground.

"What is it?" Ian exclaimed, staring down at the creature. Wrinkled leathery skin covered a bulging body. Beady black eyes the size of apples were set in the thing's skull, above a twin pair of flat yellowed teeth that could probably snap a bone. Or gnaw through one at least.

"Molerats…" Markus said, suspiciously scanning the terrain around them, "Get your damn gun out, there's bound to be more of them."

Ian nodded and obeyed quickly, drawing the pistol from his pocket. He nearly jumped when Markus barked again, "No! Your fucking rifle. That toy isn't gonna do shit to a Molerat, the skins too thick, hurry!"

Shoving the pistol back away, Ian pulled the rifle around and wrapped his hand around the wooden stock, fitting his finger against the cool metal trigger. The two of them gazed around, searching for the next Molerat. They stayed like that for a while, as long as fifteen minutes, just waiting. Finally, Markus announced that they should get a move on. If there were any other Molerats, they wouldn't be coming.

It was then, just as Ian lowered his gun, that a troupe of the beasts came trundling over a nearby ridge. The pack came with a torrent of hisses and the noise drew their attention immediately. Ian managed to get a bead on them first, miraculously, and he pulled the trigger while keeping it aimed on the nearest Molerat's head. Ian pulled the trigger. He heard the click of metal hitting metal inside the gun and for a moment he was sure nothing would happen.

After a few more moments, he knew the click was all that was coming.

The Molerats barreled toward them. A few gunshots cut through the air and one of the Molerats fell, dead. Then another. All the while Ian was struggling with his rifle, trying desperately to get it working. He tried working the slide, but still nothing. He pulled the trigger again and nothing came.

"What the hell is your problem!?" Markus roared. It wasn't until that moment that Ian realized they were alone. Half a dozen Molerat corpses littered the ground and the gun in Markus's hands had a thin line of grey smoke floating from the barrel. "Jesus fucking Christ! Why the hell did you just stand there!?"

The man's angry gaze seemed to physically choke Ian and he found himself struggling for words. "I… my… the gun…"

Markus still stood there, standing several inches taller than Ian and filled to the brim with fury. However, he didn't say anything for a few moments. He just stood there staring at Ian, then suddenly he spoke. The angry roar was gone, replaced by his normal expressionless growl.

"You don't know how to use the damn gun, do you?"

Ian shook his head and the man startled him by letting out a raspy, exasperated chuckle.

"Fuck, I should've known. Ten minutes out of the damn hole… Hand it over."

Ian took off the rifle's strap and extended the weapon toward Markus. The man let his own gun drop and hang from its strap, taking hold of Ian's rifle instead. He looked over the gun quickly for a moment, then did something to make a slim blocky cartridge slip out the bottom. He looked at it and chuckled again, softly and under his breath this time.

"Get out some fucking bullets," he growled, the apparent amusement almost inaudible in his voice, "The guns not even loaded."

Ian took off his backpack and began to delve into the big pocket. He withdrew the two cardboard boxes after a few moments of rooting around and put one back after Markus barked, "Put those 10 mms away, we don't need 'em." Ian shoved the box labeled 10 mm back into the bag and zipped it shut.

"Get out a couple of the thirty-twos," Markus said, holding out a hand toward Ian, "five of them."

Ian handed over the bullets and watched as the man demonstrated how to load the gun. He showed Ian how to operate the slide and put a bullet in the chamber. From there he handed the weapon to Ian and said, "It's simple from there, point the gun, pull the trigger."

Ian nodded and slung the weapon back over his shoulder. Markus looked up at the sun, watching it float in the sky for a moment, before saying gruffly, "Let's get going. If we're lucky we can get two of those shit jobs done today."

Ian followed Markus as he started off. The man's sudden talkativeness was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. They moved wordlessly, scanning the area or just staring straight ahead.

They traveled in this manner for most of the afternoon. The terrain was dry and uneven, full of dead and dying brush. They had only been going for half an hour when Megaton was hidden from view by the uneven grey-brown hills. At that point, it became apparent to Ian just how empty the wasteland was.

As far as he could see in any direction, they were alone.

There were no people, or animals. No buildings, abandoned or not. Whatever direction Ian looked in, it was empty. Nothing existed in the sky, either. It stretched on, stained red by the impending sunset. Birds didn't seem to exist any more than people or living plants.

Once Ian saw a faraway blur of movement on the horizon, but it was gone as suddenly as it had appeared. For a moment he thought to ask Markus about it, but one look at the man dispelled any such notion. There was nothing about Markus that invited conversation.

Suddenly, after hours of silent hiking, Markus stopped and signaled for Ian to do the same. He dropped into a crouch and moved ahead slowly. His head was kept trained in a single direction and Ian could see his fingers moving almost nervously on the surface of his gun.

"We're here," he said finally, his voice little more than a whisper, "but I don't think we're alone. Get your gun ready, get some bullets out."

Markus swung his head back slowly and watched as Ian took out a handful of the copper colored shells and shoved them in his pocket. He nodded to the man and they began to move forward at a creeping pace. Ian copied Markus's crouch and they approached the now-visible building like that.

It seemed to be facing away from them, since there were no visible doors on this side. However, Ian could see something lashed to the cement surface. It was a dull red color, with various spots of grisly yellow across it. As they moved closer, Ian was able to make out a similar red color staining the cement around it.

As Ian watched, a big black bird came down from the sky and landed on it. Pecking at the thing for a moment, it tore away a chunk of…_ something…_ and flew away with it. They moved closer and Ian was hit by a wall of stench. Horrible and filled with decay, if anything smelled like death, this was it.

Ian glanced back at the thing, got a better look at it, and felt his stomach clench as a wave of nausea rolled over him.

"Best not to look at them, kid." Markus murmured just loud enough for Ian to hear, "You can't help 'em and it's just gonna make you throw up. We've got more important things to take care of."

"But… they're…" Ian tried to say, still transfixed by the sight of the people strung along the sides of the building. Their skin was totally removed, eyes plucked out, flesh gouged. Ian wasn't sure that the brutality had been committed entirely by the birds.

"Raiders…" Markus growled, "They're sick fucking scum. The best you can do is to put a bullet into whatever shitheaded bastard did that."

Ian quivered, still staring at the bodies. They were attached to nearly every vertical surface, tied up, chained up, pinned up with spikes and nails. Their faces were contorted into masks of agony that said they'd probably been alive when they were put up there. He thought he might be sick.

A dull crack sounded in the air and Ian felt something whoosh past him. A spot on the ground exploded, throwing up a handful of dirt into the air.

A voice behind them called out giddily, "Wowee! Missed that little bitch big time. Don't worry though, squirt, Johnny's a-comin' back around!"

"Shit!" Markus growled, "Get down kid."

Ian saw Markus dive behind a dull green trash bin with peeling paint. He moved just a moment later, throwing himself forward and around the hood of a junked car.

He sat there, crouched, fumbling with his rifle. There was still a bullet in the chamber, from when Markus had loaded it. Ian checked again, though, drawing back the slide just enough to see a glint of the inside. He rammed it back closed and felt his hands shaking against the gun. It took a few moments to move his unsteady grip down the weapon and to wrap it around the stock. He slipped his finger onto the trigger and took a deep shaky breath.

Another shot tore through the air, then a loud clank. Vibrations sank into Ian's shoulder where it touched the rough metal. A hysterical laugh jetted out above the ringing in Ian's ears, then half a dozen shots came, one after another. These were closer at hand, probably coming from Markus's gun.

Ian forcefully unclenched his jaw and tried to loosen his muscles. His whole body was wound like a spring, ready to snap at any moment. Ian moved slowly, focusing on each task. He fitted his finger against the trigger. He sat up straighter, still careful to stay behind the cover of the car's body. He took a deep breath.

Ian leaned his head out and around the hood of the car, searching quickly for the raider's whereabouts. As soon as he spotted the leatherclad man, Ian pulled back behind the car.

A shot whizzed through the air, flying past Ian and burying itself in the dirt behind him.

Ian moved quickly and pulled he gun's barrel around the car hood. He had only an instant to find his mark, but he managed. Lining up the sights with the man, Ian held his breath and squeezed the trigger.

Recoil threatened to pull the gun from his grasp, but Ian's terrified iron grip kept it close. The moment the gunshot crackled through the air was indistinguishable from the moment the man collapsed backward. Ian stayed where he was, watching, for a few moments longer. When the man didn't get up or even move a muscle, Ian knew he was dead.

He'd killed another man. First the Overseer, then this raider. The bodies pinned and tied to the building's grey and bloodied sides should have been enough to ease Ian's conscience. They should have sufficed, but they didn't. Ian couldn't stop dwelling on the fact that he'd ended two lives in the past few days. He was a murderer.

"Nice shot kid," came Markus's voice from nearby, "Let's get going. I'm sure he wasn't the only one."

And just like that, they left the man's body out there in the waste and moved on to the building's front. They were in the ruined remnants of a parking lot now, complete with junked cars and a few wrecked street lamps. The shattered asphalt had been bleached grey by hundreds of years in the hot sun. Scraggly weeds poked their heads out through cracks and holes in the surface.

The building appeared to have had two front doors, but one of them was blocked by rubble. A sign above them shouted "_SUPER DUPER MART_" in block letters that had been stripped of their paint a long time ago. The remaining door had been made of glass, but that had been decimated to leave just a twisted metal skeleton. Through the wide gaps, the darkened interior of the building was partially visible. Ian could make out a blockish shape that could've been a counter, a few wire shopping carts, and a few more nondescript piles of rubble. Somewhere far within, Ian could just barely make out a light.

For just a moment, something passed in front of the ghostly luminance, then it was gone.

Markus looked back and forth slowly, first left, then right, surveying the area around them. Without a word he dropped into a crouch and moved forward, motioning with one hand for Ian to follow.

Ian did and they went into the darkness, climbing awkwardly through the metal frames of the door with their guns still held at the ready. Broken glass littered the ground, most of it little more than a fine powder. However, the crackling noises that came as they walked proved that it hadn't all been broken down. At the first sharp pop, Markus froze and looked slowly back toward Ian with a tense face.

"_Shut up_," he mouthed, before continuing on.

Luckily they left the glass laden ground behind quickly, venturing deeper into the darkened store. The air was cool, much cooler than could be expected in an afternoon such as this. At first Ian was nearly blind in the darkness, even opting to remove his sunglasses before they had gone more than a few steps in. As they progressed, though, his eyes began to accommodate the darkness and a sort of night vision began to take effect.

As they went deeper into the darkness, Ian began to imagine that he could feel it pressing in. The light that had once been emitted from the open door behind them had been swallowed up in the darkness's never ending hunger. Shapes loomed in the darkness around them, tall shapes and short shapes. Shapes that could have been human if allowed any illumination, and shapes that could only be made human by the most twisted imagination.

Ian held the wooden body of the gun close, his finger just a hair away from the trigger at all times. There could be anything in this place.

Markus held up a hand, signaling for Ian to stop, and he obeyed. Still gazing around distrustfully at the shadows, Ian listened to Markus's hushed whisper.

"There's one ahead, walking a circuit in one of those aisles. I'm gonna see if I can't put this one down quietly, you hang back. Stay alert, this might get messy…"

Markus lowered his hand and dropped his gun, letting it swing gently by the shoulder strap. With a slow deadly grace, he drew a knife with a charcoal black blade and began to move forward. His steps made no sound against the ground.

The man was a wolf.

Markus moved off into the darkness, becoming no more than a silhouette after a few steps. He moved fluidly, each step leading into the next. A hunting wolf. Ian clenched his hand around the gun, trying to keep them limber. _This might get messy…_ What did that mean? Was Ian supposed to be expecting a shootout to begin at any second?

Ian raised his gun, the nervous thoughts running rampant inside his head. Aiming just to the man's left, Ian tracked Markus's movement with the gun's barrel. If he couldn't distinguish Markus's approach from an incoming raider, one of them would end up dead.

Markus moved toward one of the aisles, leaned against the side of it for a moment, then ducked around and out of sight.

For a few long moments, the man could've been a million miles away. The storm of nervous thoughts rose to a staggering ferocity. What if Markus got killed in there, what then? Ian would keep waiting here for him until he got caught by a raider. One of the bodies from outside flashed into Ian's mind and he thought he might be sick. But what could he do? How would he know if Markus died?

The thoughts kept circling inside his head, whirling about incessantly, until a voice spoke from nearby.

"That's one down," Markus said, a fraction of his usual alienating demeanor mysteriously absent, "I saw at least two more in the back. Follow me, I think I found a hole in their watch."

Ian did as Markus said, following as the man led him off into the shadows. They place was still eerie, and it only got worse as they traveled deeper into the occupied store. The racks and shelves that had once held food and consumer products were bare except for a scattering of rusty and bent tin cans. Ian had to keep one eye on the floor ahead of him to keep from kicking or stepping on the cans that had fallen to the ground.

At one point, as they were walking, Ian felt his boot get stuck in something. Without pausing or stopping to look at what he had stepped in, Ian yanked his foot out of the _something_ and kept moving. The air smelled both metallic and rotten, but Ian refused to think about the implications.

His gripped the gun hard, expecting each moment for something to reach out of the darkness and take hold of him. He should have dismissed it as a silly notion, a child's fear, but Markus had confirmed the presence of _at least_ two raiders still in the building. Maybe they had noticed the two intruders. Maybe they had snuck around, followed them through the darkness. Maybe they were waiting, just a half dozen paces behind, concealed in the darkness. Maybe they were waiting for the perfect moment to strike, to put a knife into Ian just as Markus had done to the sentry, or a bullet…

Ian shook his head, trying to dispel the fear but it stuck despite his wishes.

Finally they reached the end of the aisle, having moved slowly and silently the whole way. Ian knew this only because Markus signaled for him to stop and whispered, "End of the aisle," barely loud enough for Ian to hear.

He took a firmer, readier grip on his gun.

Markus stared out toward a flickering light for a long time. For the entire time he was motionless, one with the shadows. The only sound he made was hushed breathing. From where he was crouched, Ian couldn't see what Markus was staring at, but he could guess.

Finally, still maintaining a statue-still frame, Markus spoke. It was a light whisper, "Four of them, it looks like. One by the fire, one behind each counter, one in the hallway between. Too spread out for a grenade…"

He went silent for a moment, apparently thinking of a way to kill the raiders without getting themselves killed in return.

"I guess there's no way around it. We're just gonna have to shoot 'em all upfront," the man sighed, "Wait here, when I give the signal, take out the one to the right. You see her there?" He gestured and Ian nodded when he saw. "I'll take the two to the left, then go around and kill the bastard in the hall. You keep his attention as best you can."

Ian nodded and Markus slipped away into the darkness. His departure was silent, and Ian wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been watching for it. Once Markus was gone, Ian took a step and a half forward and crouched where the man had been. Everything was quiet, the only sounds being the crackling trashcan fire and the raider murmuring to himself near it. He had a knife in his hand and was apparently pretending to use it, hacking, slashing, and stabbing at an imaginary opponent all while staying seated in his grimy red and white lawn chair.

"Bet you like that bitch…" the raider muttered, jabbing the knife forward. He giggled, twisting the knife in midair.

The air exploded the same moment the man's head did. Blood flew everywhere as the now headless body toppled backward in the chair, blood spraying from the raw stump of a neck. Ian took that as his cue and raised the rifle. Taking aim as best he could, Ian fired on the raider behind the counter. She had just leapt to her feet and begun reaching for a gun that occupied a nearby coffee table.

Just as the fingers of her left hand touched it, the bullet connected with her right thigh and sent her spinning backward. Ian started to mutter something about missing, but caught himself and felt his stomach lurch. He really was turning into a killer…

That thought turned his blood to ice, but Ian managed to fight it back long enough to reload his gun and fire again. The raider was climbing to her feet with the aid of a counter and reaching again for the gun with one bloodied hand.

The second bullet punched a hole through her neck and brought on a fountain of blood that sprayed straight over the counter for a moment before she fell. Once her body was concealed, Ian could still see the blood jetting into the air for a few seconds before the ferocity subsided and it too was invisible.

Ian took a step forward around the shelf, looking out just in time to see Markus run forward from wherever his hiding place had been. The man held his gun close to him as he ran, staying low and barreling forward.

Looking away from Markus for a moment, Ian saw something moving through the open hallway door. Without thinking, he raised his gun and fired through the doorway. There was no scream to indicate he had hit, only the cracking sound of the bullet hitting cement and a man's surprised voice exclaiming, "Fuck!"

Ian took a deep breath and moved out of his hiding spot. Each step forward was a struggle, but after half a dozen or so he had hit a stride and no longer needed to force each forward movement. His boots smacked down on the hard floor, throwing an echo into the air.

Movement again. From this angle, Ian could see a gun poking around a corner in the hallway. It had a dull metal barrel, and Ian fired on it. The gun was immediately pulled back around the corner, and Ian pressed himself against the wall to one side of the doorway. The cement wall felt cool against his back.

Ian could see Markus crouching behind the counters to his right, poking his head or his gun over the top periodically.

For a moment, Ian wondered how many bullets he had left in his gun. He didn't want to be caught with an empty gun here. Thinking back, he tallied the number of shots he had fired. One outside the building, two at the female raider behind the counter, and… two at the raider in the hallway.

Shit.

Ian had a choice, he could either take the time to reload his rifle, or he could use the pistol. He decided on the second option. He couldn't remember how many bullets were in it, but he knew there were more bullets than in the rifle. Ian swung the rifle back over his shoulder and drew the pistol. Its metal grip felt strange after the rifle's wooden stock, but it felt better to have a loaded weapon.

Ian leaned around the corner, poking one eye out into the hallway. He looked for just a moment, then jerked his head back around just in time. A gunshot sounded in the hallway and a bullet flew past Ian, out the doorway and off into the darkness. If his ears hadn't been ringing so badly, Ian might've heard it clang off of one of the abandoned cash registers.

Without waiting for even a moment, Ian swung back around the corner, gun held out, and fired. The raider had been trying to sneak up on him before, sneaking quietly along the hallway until he could shoot Ian point blank.

Ian swung around the corner, shoved his gun into the surprised raider's face, and fired.


	4. In Footsteps

Ian felt his way through the darkness, duct taped flashlight in one hand. He kept the beam focused on the wall as he inched his way along it. The other hand touched the cool cement lightly.

Finally it came into view: a metal box fastened to the wall with a heavy lever sticking out.

Ian passed the flashlight from his right hand to his left and took hold of the switch. Heaving it downward, Ian felt the aged thing give way unwillingly, sliding downward only once he had thrown the majority of his weight against it.

A hollow popping noise sounded from above him and a pale yellow light came on. In the moment of silence, Ian could hear a series of similar pops resounding from the rest of the building.

Ian shielded his eyes from the sudden brightness, though it was very similar to the sort of cold luminance he had known back home. Wincing in the light, Ian put the flashlight away and looked around the room, quickly surveying it for anything useful.

The thing that caught his eye first was a pile of scrap metal. However, closer inspection revealed it to be a junked robot. The dismembered thing was lying, useless, in a pile. The metallic surface was covered with dark red splotches. In places they were peeling and discolored.

Ian's eyes took in the rest of the room in one sickened glance. Several multi-level shelves were covered with body parts. Skeletal hands and skulls stood out to him, as did the shattered limbs covered with maggot infested flesh. The shelves themselves were covered in dark red rust, apparently brought on by a liquid other than water.

The walls were scrawled with blood and stamped with red handprints. There were no words among the scarlet scribbles, they were just that, scribbles.

Ian forced himself to look the room over once more, slowly. Finally he decided there was nothing of interest and left. Ian pulled the door shut behind him and shivered slightly.

_You can't help 'em and it's just gonna make you throw up._

_The best you can do is to put a bullet into whatever shitheaded bastard did that._

Markus's words echoed in Ian's mind for a moment and he held himself still. The senseless carnage was horrific, but he had to keep himself together. There were horrors in this place the likes of which he had never before imagined. Ian had to be able to go more than ten minutes without freezing up at the sight of the raiders' victims.

Ian shook his head and growled under his breath, quoting Markus, "Sick fucking scum…"

"Anything back there?" Markus called out. He had pulled the raiders' bodies together, lining the five of them up in the middle of the floor. Now he was solemnly going through their equipment, scavenging what he could from their bodies and from their various stashes around the building. He'd arranged the equipment into a pile that was slowly growing by the minute as he searched.

Ian shook his head, walking slowly toward the man, "Nothing but more… mess."

Turning the human remains into things instead of people made it easier for Ian to ignore the gruesome facts.

Markus growled, staring down at the raiders with a look of disgust and contempt on his face. He held the position for a moment before looking back at Ian and saying, "I saw another storage area as I was coming back in. Probably more of the same, but it's worth a shot."

Ian nodded and started toward the front of the store. However, he paused when Markus called out to him.

"Hey kid, take this."

Ian spun back around just in time to catch the black box hurtling through the air. Looking it over, Ian was confused as to what it was. The thing was a rectangle, just a few inches longer than his hand. A rubber antenna stuck out of the top.

"It's a radio," Markus explained plainly, "Found it on one of 'em."

He pointed to an identical box sitting just a few feet away from him.

"Give me a holler if you run into anything."

Ian nodded and said thanks before heading off toward the front of the store. His heavy footsteps made clapping sounds as he walked. The skeletal aisles were less ominous in the light. He still kept a hand on the barrel of his rifle, ready to swing it around if anything appeared.

The scattered cans were less of a threat now, since Ian wasn't afraid of being detected anymore. Every so often he accidentally kicked one, sending it clanging for a couple feet. Each time that happened he jumped, before remembering that they were alone in the building.

It didn't take long for Ian to reach the other end of the aisle and to see what Markus had been talking about. Off to the left there was an area separated on one side by counters and on the other by a wall. The area inside was dim, but Ian could make out a few things scattered around the counters and at least one set of shelves up against the wall.

From where he was, Ian could see an open door set in the wall. He made his way over to it and started to get out his flashlight. However, something made him pause for a moment and snake his hand along the wall near the doorway.

He felt a light plastic switch click into an upright position and a light bulb in a wire cage on the ceiling burst to life.

Putting the flashlight back away clumsily, Ian took hold of the rifle and went exploring. He'd shoved the radio into his left pocket, opposite the pistol. There were a few sets of shelves in the room, a table, and some counters. For the most part they were all empty, to which Ian felt grateful. He'd rather find no food and no bodies than both.

However, as he looked closer, Ian began to find small stashes of things. Underneath one of the counters was a metal box that held a half dozen .32s along with an empty soda bottle, a fork, and some fingernail clippings. There was a pile in one corner of the room that, once Ian had rooted through it, provided him with a rusty pistol of some kind and a red plastic tube that could have been a bullet.

Ian found the food in the last place he looked. It wasn't a lot of food, just one little prewar snack cake, actually. It was stuffed into the back of a drawer, the bottom drawer in one of the counters. Ian grabbed it along with the few other things he found and left the little room behind.

For some reason he shut the light off before he left.

Ian stood halfway between the door and the aisles, both his hands awkwardly full. He reluctantly crouched down and put it all on the floor, swinging backpack around and opening it so he could stuff the supplies inside.

Once the supplies were stowed away, Ian headed back with one hand on the rifle. He was starting to grow accustomed to having the gun there. While walking he could feel it digging into his hip as it hung at an angle. His right forearm rested on the barrel, with his fingers wrapped loosely around the cool metal a few inches from the end.

It didn't take long for Ian to return to Markus and the line of bodies. Apparently Markus was finished with the raiders, since he had left the bodies behind and was now pouring over the pile of equipment. He took out a piece, went over it, and then set it down in favor of the next.

There were several small piles of bullets off to his left, all copper and red plastic. Markus's bag was lying off to the side, unattended, while his gun hung across his back in its place. He was looking at a gun, turning it over in his hands and inspecting it.

Ian walked over to the remaining pile of uninspected gear and added the rusty pistol. Ian sorted out the bullets he'd found and put them in the appropriate piles. As he was zipping the backpack back up and swinging it over his shoulder, Markus spoke.

"Let's get this stuff split up. We've got to get going soon."

Ian looked over at Markus, who was beginning to separate the piles of bullets into two groups, with disbelief. Normally he wouldn't have challenged the man, but this was too much.

"But the sun was going down when we got in here. It's gonna be dark any minute if it isn't already. Wouldn't it be safer to stay indoors when we've got the chance."

Markus didn't even look up from his work to answer, he just shook his head and said, "The building's a landmark and there might be an entrance we missed. It'll draw attention that we might not be able to handle."

"Even if there's another way in, it's still just two. I don't want to stay in here with all of those… bodies… but I still think it's safer than sleeping out in the waste."

Markus paused in his sorting, then stood up slowly. It almost seemed as if he was a spring unfolding. Tension was somehow visible on the man's blank face.

"We are not staying in this goddam raider hole," he said sternly, holding his hard gaze on Ian for a few moments to make it sink in, "Grab any of that gear you want, cuz in ten minutes we're getting the hell out of here."

Markus started to crouch back, but he froze as a burst of static filled the air. They both froze, staring at the radio he had left on the ground. The white noise lasted just a moment before a scratchy voice filled the air.

"Hey guys, looks like there's some fresh meat headed your way. Saw some tracks comin' from the south a while back. Keep an eye out. We'll be coming over the ridge in about ten minutes. Let's see if we can't pop these suckers before it gets too dark…"

Static flared again as the voice cut out.

The whole place was silent for a moment, still and lifeless in the wake of that message.

"Shit," Markus growled, "Five minutes, five minutes or less. We'll divvy the bullets up later, let's get outa here."

He was scooping up the brass and plastic shells hurriedly, pouring them haphazardly into his backpack. He spoke quickly while doing it.

"Get that submachine gun over there, no, the little one. Yeah, and that knife. And see that pile over there, get as much of that in your pack as you can."

Ian did as he said, accepting that there was no use arguing or even speaking. He shoved the gun into his backpack, pocketed the knife, and began packing the other various things. The empty silence that emanated from the building had lost its reassuring quality completely. There was tenseness now. Fear, panic, and an overwhelming sense of imminent danger.

It didn't take long for them to get everything collected but somehow it couldn't have been fast enough. Any second lost or wasted allowed the raiders to come another step closer. Soon enough they'd be here. Ten minutes till they reached the ridge, that's what he'd said.

Finally, after what seemed an hour of wasted time, they were both ready to go. Markus adopted his wolfish stride and grabbed the radio along with a third for some reason. Not even stopping to speak, he pocketed the radios, swung his gun around, and headed for the nearby aisles.

Ian followed him, heading out among the towering aisles just behind the man. They stood tall over him, looming high into the air and crippling his awareness. There could have been anything on the other side of that stack of shelves. The lights overhead even seemed dimmer and more ominous. They threw yellow mock sunlight down. Dead light, fake light.

Shadows were long and deep as they seemed to crawl through the aisle. Finally they reached the front area and within moments they were ducking through the skeletal front door. It seemed a hundred years ago when they had first been sneaking in through this way, crouched and wary of the unknown danger within.

Now they were all but running out into the waste. It wasn't dark yet, but that wouldn't be a true statement for very long. The sun was wavering just an inch away from being lost beneath the horizon. Brown and amber hues painted the sky. Like a watercolor painting that stretched over the whole expanse.

Ian might've given it a second glance or even a second thought if he wasn't running for his life. Now they were running. They'd come out of the building at Markus's slow dangerous pace, and Ian had waited while he looked around for a moment.

"This way," was all he said, growling out the words. Then he tucked the gun sideways against his chest and took off running. Ian took a moment to catch what he had said, but responded instantly to the sight of Markus darting off into the waste.

The light got steadily dimmer as they ran, fading away constantly until it was just a grey tint to the air. It was growing harder and harder to see the farther they went. Ian kept tripping over things, and getting his legs caught in the scraggly dead bushes as they went. Markus, on the other hand, seemed to have no trouble with the going and kept on without a hitch.

Despite the life-threatening urgency of the situation, Ian found that his life of walking around inside the Vaults short corridors had not prepared him for a life or death escape. He found that his strength was quickly waning, his lungs burning while he gasped for air. He pressed himself though, desperate to put as much distance between them and the raiders as possible.

In the end it became obvious that even that wasn't enough motivation to keep his body going. While running, Ian felt his rabid steps growing shorter and weaker until his toe suddenly caught on something and he went down. The fall left Ian sprawled out on the ground, sensing a few points of stinging pain to have appeared on his body.

Ian didn't realize Markus had stopped until the man began to speak.

"Well, shit." He growled in an irritated tone, "I guess that's as far as we go tonight. Get up, we've gotta find a better place to stop."

Ian climbed slowly back to his feet and followed Markus, trying his best to ignore the small pains spread across his body. If he looked at his palms and forearms, Ian was sure he would find bloody abrasions. He did his best not to think about it.

Markus led him a couple dozen feet farther, over a hill and down into the successive dip. They made camp there, or what Markus called a camp. All they did was take off their backpacks and unfold their sleeping rolls. Once that was done, they ate dinner. Or, what Markus called dinner.

The man reached into this backpack and took out two small rag wrapped bundles. He tossed one to Ian and began to dig into his own. Ian sat on a nearby rock in the growing darkness and unfolded his bundle cautiously. Beneath the light wrapping, Ian found a handful of some kind of meat. It seemed to be shredded, since every piece was small and appeared torn.

Ian considered asking the man what kind of meat this was, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Instead, he copied the man and started eating. The meat was dry and bland, but his stomach accepted it gratefully.

By the time he had finished the meat, Ian realized that his hunger had just been awakened. He felt a slight gnawing hollowness in his core. However, Ian quickly realized that Markus had no intention of handing out a second round.

Instead, he copied the man again in shoving the rag into his pocket and wiping the tiny amount of grease from his hands.

"Get some sleep," Markus said, readying his gun and sitting on a rock, "I'll take first watch. Wake you up in an hour."

Ian nodded and settled down to sleep. It wasn't long before he was gone. Any worry or fear was quickly bested by exhaustion. He simply faded away a moment after he'd settled down. His whole body felt a thousand miles away and numb, somewhere else. He just floated away into a dreamless sleep.

"Wake up," a stern voice said. Ian felt something hard nudge his shoulder and he stirred. "Your turn, one hour." That was the last thing Ian heard as he sat up slowly. His eyes felt dry and his body sore. Ian shook his head and rubbed his face with one hand.

Hearing Markus lay down, Ian pulled himself out of his sleeping roll and up to his feet. It was fully dark now, pitch black in all directions.

All directions except for up. Ian found himself staring at the stars while he sat perched with the rifle across his lap. They burned brightly, like little pinpricks in the surface of the sky, letting in sharp points of light.

Ian eventually turned his attention away from the sky. He needed to pay attention and watch for danger. By now he had no difficulty staying awake. The air was icy, bitingly so. Ian thought his fingers might go numb in the frigid night temperature. He sat there with his hands wrapped tightly around the gun's wooden stock and barrel, waiting for anything to happen.

Every so often Ian checked the clock on his PipBoy, but aside from that all he did was scan around the area. And aside from the slight movement of craning his head around to survey the area, he was still. Totally, absolutely, stock still. His body wanted to shiver but he held himself still despite that.

Ian looked out into the night, watching the empty, endless shadows. They were just as still as he was, utterly motionless and dead. Then suddenly something moved, it was just a slight movement, small and quick and almost unnoticeably. Ian managed to see it, though, and it set him on edge. Something had moved out there. It didn't matter how big it was or how close.

There was something out there.

Ian kept the rifle ready as he watched the night. He was waiting for the thing to move. While he waited he wondered what it had been. Was it an animal? Or maybe a person.

Maybe that had been a raider, sneaking through the night, laden with guns and knives and cruel intent. Ian could see him now, for the nameless shapeless specter had taken on the visage of a tall darkly tanned man.

Sneaking through the night, he had been following the pair of them for hours, and now they were weak. The dangerous one was asleep, and he'd left the inexperienced kid to keep watch. Now he was crawling in the darkness, an automatic rifle on his back and a wickedly sharp knife jammed into his belt.

He was just beyond the reach of Ian's weak night vision. He was moving slowly so that he made no noise.

He'd just stopped, and he was crouching now. He raised his run and took aim on the chest of the young one. He prepared to pull the trigger, grinning as he thought of the carnage about to ensue.

Ian stared around, his eyes jumping across the darkness feverishly. Something told him to check his PipBoy and he was surprised to realize that a whole hour had passed. Ian wasn't sure whether to be relieved his turn at watch was over, or worried because now he had to sleep. A not so little part of him was sure of the hiding raider and his oversized knife.

Markus woke up the first time Ian shook him and he immediately returned to the rock he'd used an hour ago. Ian climbed into his sleeping bag and tried his best to fade away. It was harder this time as he found himself fixating on the vast unknown world around him.

For a moment Ian just watched the shadowy shape of Markus sitting on the rock, then he closed his eyes. However, during that moment he could feel the darkness pressing in again and he could hear the raider's footsteps as he approached.

When Ian opened his eyes again, Markus was gone. The darkness was flat and the man was nowhere to be seen. Ian looked around slowly, then faster, hoping that the man was still nearby.

He wasn't. Ian saw the man nowhere. Not when he craned his neck all the way around and not when he rose from the ground and explored the campsite. There was no sign of the man. His bedroll was missing too. And Ian's pack, along with the rifle.

Suddenly a flood of light swept over him and he was blinded.

"Haha! Look what we've got ourselves here," exclaimed an overjoyed voice. Several more people spoke, but by that time Ian was already running. He moved as fast as he could, flying across the rough ground in a desperate attempt to escape. All he could hear now was laughter from behind him. It was getting closer now, no matter how fast he ran it still got closer. All of them, the whole chorus of voices, laughing gleefully as they closed in on their prey.

"Ian!" a voice screamed, "Help me!"

It was a girl's voice and he immediately recognized it.

Amata

She kept screaming, kept calling his name out into the night. He wanted to go back and he wanted to help her, but there was nothing he could do. He had no way of fighting the raiders, and no way of rescuing her. Hell, he didn't have any way of rescuing himself. All he could do was run and hope against hope that they got tired of the chase.

Great booming laughter filled the air. Ian could feel it shaking the ground and burning in his ears. It was a thousand times louder than any of the raiders, than all of the raiders together.

Suddenly Ian stopped, he was forced to stop. Something stood just ahead of him. So massive that it looked more like a building than a creature. It looked almost like the silhouette of a massive person. Ian stared up at it, feeling his blood run cold.

Something about it seemed familiar. Ever so slightly reminiscent. In the shape, our maybe something about the voice. The voice! He'd heard it before. Despite the giant's distortion, Ian managed to pick out the voice he'd heard every day of his childhood. Every day of his life until the day he left the vault.

Standing like a giant, looming over Ian, was his father.

Ian jerked awake, drenched in icy sweat. In his panic he let out a small cry, and he found Markus jerking around toward him and glaring.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" the man exclaimed in hushed tones, "Shut the hell up. I'm not going to get killed just because you had a goddamned nightmare."

"My… my dad," Ian groaned out between panicked breaths, "It was… my dad…"

Suddenly realizing that he'd spoken again in the dead silence, Ian looked toward Markus, expecting the man to lash out at him again. Instead, Ian found the man just staring at him wordlessly. He seemed about to say something, and Ian could see his lips moving in the moonlight.

Then he stopped and just said blankly, "Just go back to sleep, it's your watch soon."

Ian did, and Markus woke him when it was his turn for watch. The cycle continued uneventfully from then on. The last time Markus woke him up, the air was grey and Ian could just make out a spot of light on the horizon. The meagerness of the camp meant that it took only moments to pack up then they were off.

Markus led off along the dead ground, and Ian followed in the same weary step. There was something in the way that Markus walked that suggested an added awareness. He was on full alert throughout the entire trek, watching for raiders and always just a hair away from pulling the trigger.

For a while in the early morning it had been cool out, but as time passed the sun rose. Soon enough it stood high in the sky, burning brightly and casting down waves of heat.

After walking for a long time, they found themselves at the edge of a river. Muddy brown water sparkled in the sun, flowing downstream with a barely visible current. Ian could see the far bank, just over a hundred yards away. It was strewn with dirty black sand and garbage.

Without making a spectacle of it, Markus led Ian down a flight of old worn stairs to the edge of the river. Markus kept on ahead at the same pace, walking steadily into the water. Ian paused at the edge and watched as it rose past the man's knees, then his waist, then he watched as Markus lifted his gun above his head and kept going.

Ian followed and was amazed by how cold the water was. Shocked was closer to what he felt, while following Markus deeper and deeper into the river. He raised his gun just the same, but he hardly maintained the same stoic attitude about the frigid temperature.

He shivered and spluttered as he pushed onward after Markus. Now that he was inside of it, the river seemed a lot wider. It took a lot longer to reach the far bank than Ian would have thought, but eventually they did it.

Stepping out onto the rough black sand, Ian stood still for a moment, basking in the sun's suddenly appreciated warmth. He didn't stay for long though, since Markus started off again after just a few seconds.

They headed up another set of stairs and eventually wound up in front of an old metal door. It was set in a small concrete building that sloped down toward the cement ground on one end. After just a moment's hesitation, Markus grabbed hold of the scuffed silver doorknob and opened the door.

It revealed a long staircase that led down into a deep darkness.

They headed down and paused at the bottom. They'd both taken out flashlights and were waving the beams idly around the room. Markus reached into his backpack and pulled out a length of gnarled wood that glowed green on one end. He handed it to Ian.

"What's this?" Ian asked, staring at the _thing_ in his hand.

"The applicator, for the molerat pesticide."

Ian looked back down at the stick.

"This?" he asked, confused.

"Yes," Markus said, and something about his tone indicated that he didn't want to talk anymore.

Moving in silence, they headed down into the tunnels. The halls were tight, and because of his mission, Ian went in front. The darkness made it eerie going, and the hunting didn't make it any better.

The first time he found a molerat, Ian realized just how big it was compared to his weapon. He still forced himself attack, and hope against hope that the green glow was for more than looks. As it turned out, the stuff was just about fatal upon contact. He whacked the molerat with it once and the thing dropped dead.

After that they found a few more and Ian killed them each in turn. Eventually they found themselves in one of the lower hallways. Ian was walking ahead at a slow place, listening to the sounds of their footsteps against the metal floor.

Suddenly the lights snapped on.

A mechanical whirring came from above and behind them.

Ian turned to see what was happening, but Markus was ahead of him. He grabbed Ian by the shoulder and pulled him to one side, through an open door and into the small closet beyond.

A burst of gunfire crackled through the air, shattering the silence like a dozen hammers against Ian's eardrums. Shots echoed from other parts of the tunnels as Markus threw the door closed and leaned against it. The heavy latch clicked shut.

Ian was about to ask Markus what the hell was happening when both of the radios came to life, speaking in static filled double.

"Got those turrets online Buster. Should take care of them bitches. Me and a few of the guys are gonna stay back here and make sure they're dead. Have a little fun too, if there's anything left of them."

A second voice chuckled, "That'll teach 'em. Don't stay here all day, we've got more than one hit for today."

"Gotcha," this was the first voice again, "This shouldn't take too long."

The radios went silent and Markus growled, "We're done here. Let's go."

Ian nodded and stowed the _applicator_ away in his backpack. Taking up the rifle again, Ian stood by while Markus took hold of the door handle. With his other hand he reached into his backpack and pulled out a strange looking device. Opening the door open a crack, Markus tossed the thing out into the corridor and shut it again.

There was a big sound like static.

Markus grabbed his gun and threw the door open. He headed out into the fluorescent lit hallway and began leading back toward the surface.

They padded along the corridors, checking corners before turning and ascending stairs slowly and carefully. They didn't even see any raiders until the end.

Just as they came to the first room, the sounds loud laughter and men talking about disturbing memories began to echo from up ahead. The two of them moved cautiously. Reaching the final corner, Markus peaked around.

He growled slightly then stepped out around the corner, gun held high. He walked ahead brazenly and stood at one end of the room.

"Oh what the fuck!" one exclaimed.

"What are you…" a second said, before being cut off by the sound of automatic gunfire.


	5. The Last Leg

Sorry for the long wait. Hope you're liking the story. Don't forget to review.

* * *

The outside air was warm and dry, a contrast with the dark sewers below. Even though Ian had already shut the heavy metal door behind him, the pungent scents of death and decay were still notable in the air.

The smells made Ian think of the dead men just a short distance away. Ian could remember the shocked looks on their faces as Markus stepped out of the corridor and gunned them down. He had to remind himself of what they had been before the taunting faces would fade away

Raiders: sick minded, sadistic freaks who prowled in search of prey to torment and torture.

They had deserved to die.

"Fucking scum," Markus growled, seemingly to himself. One hand was still clenched angrily around his rifle while the other hung at his side, kneading itself restlessly. "Bullshit peacock sadists…"

Markus continued to growl and grumble about the raiders as they walked. He seemed extremely worked up by their persistent presence. The man was staring straight ahead with a hateful glare instead of his usual sweeping vigilance.

In between Markus's muttered curses, the air was quiet. The whole world seemed to stop while they travelled. The only sounds were their own crunching footsteps and the dry rustling wind that popped up every so often. The river even seemed to run with a hush

Though the breeze was cool, the air was hot. The sun hung high in the sky, burning brightly among the sea of mottled clouds. Between the clouds, Ian could see an amber expanse.

Somehow the sky seemed broken. None of it looked the way it had in the books. The sky was blue in those and the clouds white. This was a damaged sky with damaged clouds and an oppressively large sun.

The sun baked the ground and rebounded off of it. The dirt shimmered from heat and Ian had to wipe the sweat from his brow before it rolled into his eyes. The sunglasses protected him from the sun but not from its indirect influences.

"Hey fagots!" a jolly, singsong voice called out from above and behind them.

Markus spun around before the first syllable faded from the air. Ian turned in time to see two clouds of dust fly up while the third bullet punched a hole in the foremost raider's left arm. She screamed but kept on, clutching a butcher knife in her right hand.

Ian raised his rifle and took aim at the one in the back. He was silhouetted by the sun, but Ian could clearly see the gun held in each hand.

Shots rang in the air as Ian pulled the trigger. He felt one bullet whiz past his left ear and another smacked into the ground at his feet.

_Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!_

In the corner of Ian's eye, he saw a raider's chest and stomach erupt in a violent spray of blood. Five individual geysers grouped so closely together that they might've been the wound of one much larger bullet.

The raider keeled over and dropped to the ground like a ragdoll. She didn't move or struggle, she just died.

At the same moment, Ian watched the silhouetted raider flinch as a bullet flew past him. _Damn!_

Ian took aim again and fired twice in quick succession. The act of reloading skewed the second bullet so it flew off center.

One bullet struck the man's stomach while the other dug itself into his shoulder. He dropped his guns and fell to his knees, clutching the wounds.

Ian turned toward the final raider and took aim. However, even as he did that, blood sprayed from his arm, leg, neck, stomach, and then finally his eye socket. His body dropped lifelessly and rolled down the hill for a few yards.

It was quiet then, except for the gurgling cries of the only living raider. He was moving slowly, trying to crawl away.

Markus raised his gun toward the man then lowered it after a moment of thought.

"He'll bleed out," Markus said simply before turning away. Markus never looked back at the man. He just continued walking the same direction he had been before they were interrupted.

"Shouldn't we be more careful now?" Ian asked.

"What do you mean?" Markus asked, pausing his stride.

"They could be with the ones chasing us," Ian said, "If these three caught up, the others can't be too far."

Markus shook his head, "These three aren't with the others. Two different groups entirely. Let's get going."

Ian didn't say any more. He just turned away from the bodies and followed Markus up the hill. However, unlike Markus, Ian glanced back once he had reached the top of the hill. Two bodies lay near the bottom of the adjacent hill, and the other was shifting weakly at the top.

Even as Ian watched, something large and black fell down beside the faintly living raider. The thing looked oily and deformed. Ian could almost make out wings and greasy feathers. A gnarled head jabbed out atop a sickly pale neck and Ian heard the raider cry out again in agony.

It tore a chunk of red flesh from the man's body and swallowed it down.

Ian watched in horror for a moment before prying his eyes away. Flashes of the raiders' ornamentation appeared in his mind and squashed any thought of pity. They man was screaming in torment, but Ian knew that he deserved it.

The two of them left the raiders there with the oily bird. They hiked over the hill and over the next hill and the next. The sun held its position in the sky and the sweat continued to drip down.

The rest of the trek was made in silence. They held their guns at the ready and watched the surrounding area for any sign of movement.

It was a dead world, an empty and dead world. Nothing moved except for them. Nothing breathed or even dared to. The trees were dead just as the black dirt was dead. The air was hot and dry and dead.

After a long while of relentless monotony, they reached the crest of a hill and gazed out upon a dead town.

In truth, all that remained was a single road lined with ancient and dilapidated houses. Paint was left to peel while the wooden structures were equally scorched and rotten. The single asphalt laden road was cracked and pitted. Old cars lined the street, some merely rusted skeletons, some toppled and smashed, while others seemed pristine except for the countless layers of dirt that lay upon their painted surface.

"Let's get in there," Markus said, surveying the scene below, "Keep an eye out and an ear to the ground. We don't know what we're gonna find and those ghost stories must've come from somewhere."

Ghost stories?

Ian held his gun tight as they descended the hill toward the skeletal town. Moira hadn't said anything about ghosts, just mines. Of course, she hadn't mentioned raiders either and they seemed to be running into them a lot. Maybe the ghost stories about this town were just another important thing that had slipped her mind.

Soon enough they were standing at the edge of the town. Markus paused again at this point. He gazed ahead into the town. Ian found his eyes being drawn to the dark surface of the asphalt road. Mines could be anywhere, and Ian didn't even know anything about spotting them. He had no clue as to what they looked like.

Anything here could be a mine, and Ian would have no way of knowing.

"It's clear right here," Markus said, "but don't go ahead of me. I'm going to need to check each area individually. If the stories are right, this place is all just layer upon layer of mines."

Ian had to trust Markus as he led him through the infested area. There was an ever constant fear of a mine appearing under his next step. It was possible, all Markus had to do was miss one mine. That wouldn't be too hard; he just had to accidentally skip over the explosive.

However, Markus managed to lead him undamaged all the way through. The man said that he hadn't found any, but Ian still felt indebted to the man. If he had been alone, Ian probably would have found the only existing mine in the whole place.

Somehow they managed to make their way to a playground near the town center without discovering any mines.

"There's nothing," the man said, almost chuckling, "I'll be damned. It was all bullshit. Nothing but a trick."

Ian opened his eyes and saw nothing but gravel. He tried to move his arms but that sent a burst of nausea racing through his head. Ian's head was swimming and his eyes were blurry. He managed to take hold of the ground with both hands and lift himself up a few inches off the ground. Pain roared through his skull, creating a supernova inside of his brain.

He could just make out the distorted figure of Markus. The man was moving a lot. Ian could see him moving around, scrambling toward something. The man was pressed up against the flat side of something large. He was waving one hand at Ian, and his mouth was moving too. The man was trying frantically to get Ian's attention.

Somehow, everything snapped back into focus in a single instant.

His body burned in half a dozen places. The world was screaming at him in a single pitch. The air seemed colder on his skin. The screaming was subsiding, slipping farther and farther away by the moment.

"Get the fuck up kid!" Markus roared, though the sound seemed distant, "Get behind something!"

Ian looked up at Markus for a moment, still feeling vaguely far away. The words clicked and he leapt toward Markus and the brick wall he was up against.

Even as Ian leapt, something bit into his left arm. He came down on his hands and knees and collapsed into the ground. Markus grabbed hold of his backpack and Ian could feel the man dragging him. He stopped moving and Ian pulled himself off the ground slowly and with much effort.

He managed to get into a crouching position against the wall, but he couldn't feel his left arm past the elbow.

Markus was crouching a foot away, gun held tightly in his hand. Moving quickly, he jabbed his head an inch out of cover before pulling it back immediately. A shot rang through the air at the same instant.

"This guy is good," Markus growled. For a moment he looked back at Ian, seeming to contemplate something. However, he looked away without saying anything.

Ian watched as Markus reached into his backpack and pulled something out. Ian couldn't actually see the something, but he was able to make an assumption once Markus pulled the pin out and tossed it backward over the wall.

A deafening explosion shook the air. Ian could feel the bricks in the wall shift unsettlingly under the weight of the explosion. When he looked over again, Markus was gone.

The man had apparently moved quickly in the aftermath of the explosion. Ian could see him several meters beyond the protection of the brick wall. Even as the air was clearing, Markus leapt down behind a car that had been overturned and scorched long ago.

He pressed himself up against the skeletal structure while a mine went off somewhere. Ian could hear explosions wracking the air as he lay against the wall. The air was shaking and burning and Ian could feel the ground trembling beneath the force of the detonations.

Looking over, Ian realized that Markus had moved again. The man was nowhere to be seen now. Ian tightened his good hand around his gun and found himself holding his breath. He could hear his heart beating in his ears. It was somehow louder than the explosions.

Sweat trickled down his face with taunting sluggishness.

There was someone somewhere shooting at them. This place was littered with hidden mines. Markus was nowhere to be seen. Ian was alone and wounded.

These were the things he knew. Four facts set against a mountain of uncertainties.

Where was the shooter? Where was Markus? Where were the mines? Were they going to get out of this? Would Ian be able to do anything with his arm like this? Were they going to die here?

The questions raged through Ian's head until he couldn't take it anymore. He had to do _something_. It didn't matter what and it didn't have to be useful. He just couldn't bear sitting here like a corpse wondering if he was about to become one.

Ian laid the rifle across his lap and propped himself up on his good hand. Pain flashed in his other arm, but it quickly subsided. With great effort, Ian pushed himself an inch along the wall. Looking over to his left, Ian could see the edge of the wall. It might as well have been a mile away.

An explosion tore through the air followed by the agonized creaking of something collapsing. A gunshot crackled and then half a dozen came in return.

Ian gritted his teeth and pushed himself a little farther. He managed to move a whole six inches, and the edge seemed almost reachable now. Ian took a deep breath and he felt dust settle on his tongue as he did so. Ian started to cough but he tried to suppress it and ended of choking. Finally he managed to gasp in a real breath of air and he moved again.

Three rapid shots filled the air. They came in quick succession, but Ian could hear individual pauses between each blast.

The edge of the wall was just a few inches away from Ian's face now, and he carefully slipped one eye around it. He was greeted by the familiar grey brown landscape with only a few dead houses to distinguish it.

A sudden movement drew Ian's eye to the second floor of one of the houses. He wasn't sure what he saw there but… there it was again. Ian found himself focusing on the final few inches of a polished black gun barrel. It seemed out of place in the dirty, disheveled world.

A flash of fire burst from the barrel and Ian hear the gunshot. He made the association then. One question answered. This was the shooter. Ian wasn't sure of anything else, but he knew he had a chance here. He could do _something_ with this. The shooter was focused on Markus, for now.

Ian scoured the building, looking for anything that could help him. He found ruined staircase in wide open first floor, nearly hidden among garbage and debris. There was also a window in one of the remaining walls. A single support beam came down on one end of the room.

The idea suddenly snapped into his head. That beam must have been holding the building up almost entirely. If only he could find some way to demolish it.

Another question was answered. Two more: Ian knew where at least one of the mines was, and he knew what he could do.

He took hold of the rifle again and tried to lift it with his good arm alone. That proved too difficult and he just ended up dragging the barrel along the ground. Using his leg for leverage, he gritted his teeth and screwed his eyes shut in preparation. Ian lifted the gun into his left hand and leaned around the corner.

Everything was on the verge of falling apart. Ian felt just seconds away from exploding, or disintegrating, or just burning away. His arm was going to fall off, or it was going to get sucked into the wound. He was going to drop the gun because the pain was too much, but no. He couldn't drop the gun. If he dropped the gun he would die and Markus would die. He couldn't let the pain get in the way. It was a white hot supernova embedded in his flesh, but he had to ignore it. Just for a moment.

Ian looked through hazy eyes and took aim. He raised the gun and fought back tears as he worked the damaged muscle. Just for a moment, just for a second. Not long… He repeated that like a mantra. Not much longer, not long. Just a second…

He lined the sights up as well as he could, knowing he wouldn't have a second chance. Ian pulled the trigger and felt the gun jump in his hands. He held it as steady as he could, but it attacked his wounded arm and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Ian felt the gun fall from his hands and he went limp with agony. He grabbed hold of his wound and gritted his teeth, trying to pretend he was somewhere else or that it didn't hurt.

In some faraway place, a mine exploded at the same moment. That mine demolished a support beam and that support beam released the second and third stories. The building collapsed in a rain of garbage, cement, and rotted wood. A surprised cry came from inside the ruined mass, but it was buried beneath the roars of destruction. Just as the one who screamed was buried beneath the mountain of wreckage.

Ian could feel his consciousness throbbing in sync with the pain in his arm. He went from barely awake to painfully lucid and back again. He seemed to lie like this forever, washing back and forth.

Finally it seemed that he began to stabilize, to hold onto one or the other. Ian opened his eyes and coughed. He was dimly aware of the pain in his arm, but it somehow seemed to be far away. Markus was standing over him, but instead of a gun, the man held a syringe in his hand.

Ian moaned quietly as he tried to sit up. His arm wasn't on fire anymore. It felt strange. Ian looked down at it and watched as the flesh writhed and reformed around the wound. Even as he looked on, the bloody hole knit itself back together, leaving nothing but a mass of pale scar tissue. Ian looked down at himself and watched as a few small pieces of metal were pushed out of his body by the quickly reforming flesh.

"What… what did you do?" Ian asked, rising to his feet. As he did this, Ian realized that he wasn't totally healed. His body was weak, extremely weak. It was an effort to get up. He felt like he'd been running for hours straight. When he reached his feet, Ian picked up his gun and fitted the strap around his shoulders.

"Stimpack," Markus said, "heals your injuries but takes a toll on your body in a different way. You won't be able to move much for a while, but at least you're not bleeding out anymore."

Ian worked the feeling back into his hands while the man talked. He kept sneaking looks at the new flesh on his arm. Ian tried to take a step, but his leg nearly gave out beneath him and he had to catch himself on the brick wall to keep from falling.

"Give yourself a minute, you'll be able to walk soon. Just stay here while I go get that mine Moira wanted," Markus said, walking away.

Ian stood there against the wall, trying to work feeling into his arms and legs. They didn't hurt or ache, they just felt far away. Someone else's arms and legs. He bents his knees and extended them, curled his fingers up and worked his elbows. By the time Markus had returned with a circular metal disc, Ian was standing on his own and pacing a short circuit.

Ian was hesitant to take the explosive until Markus told him it was deactivated.

"I think that sniper took the pressure sensors out of most of them, that way he could set them off manually once we were caught in the middle of his trap," Markus explained, "Nice shot back there. You saved my skin. He had an ultimately defensible position and… sooner or later he would've gotten me."

"You've still saved my life more times than I've saved yours," Ian said, putting the mine into his backpack. Despite Markus's reassurance, Ian stowed it carefully and was careful not to jostle it.

It was just a few minutes after that that they set off. Ian still felt exhausted from the stimpack, and his boots and pack felt especially heavy. He was taking deep breathes from the start, and the boiling sun did nothing to help him. It was hanging right above them, burning with its full radiance.

Ian walked in something of a daze. He felt very detached during the afternoon of travelling. He moved monotonously, taking one tired step after another. Ian kept his hands around his gun, but the barrel sagged downward. Ian tried to look around and be wary of the surrounding world, but he was just too tired to pay attention.

Luckily, they never even saw another person.

Ian and Markus were walking up one of the wasteland's many hills when Markus suddenly stopped. It took a moment for Ian to notice and to the same.

"What is…?" Ian started to ask before Markus shushed him.

No saying anything, Markus motioned for Ian to get down on the ground. He obeyed while the man did the same. Ian was confused until he heard the voices.

"What the fuck is taking those bitches so long?"

_Raiders_

"I bet they got eaten by rats," a second voice snickered.

The voices were moving toward them. The raiders must've been walking up the other side of the hill.

"They'd better be dead," a third voice said, "Or I'm gonna fucking make 'em wish they were."

Several other voices laughed, and Ian wondered how many raiders there were. At least six. Six raiders right on top of them. Ian didn't know how well he could fight, but he didn't think it would matter much in a standoff with at least six raiders.

The voices were getting closer, new raiders speaking up every second. Ian had counted at least ten voices.

"Get ready," Markus whispered.

Ian nodded and pointed his rifle toward the hills crest. As soon as he saw something come over that, he would shoot.

Suddenly Ian heard a faraway radio burst to life.

"I think I picked up on those two fuckers," a static edged voice said, "Me and Hook are up north and we found some tracks heading down your way. If you head north now we should be able to box them in."

The voice stopped and the raiders on the hill were silent for a moment.

"We're on our way," a nearby voice said.

Suddenly the raiders started talking and moving again. They changed their direction and actually began to head _away_ from Ian and Markus. The group of raiders started to head north, moving parallel to Ian and Markus's own trail.

The two of them waited motionlessly for several minutes before they stood back up. Markus didn't say anything and he didn't need to. Ian understood all there was to be understood.

They needed to get back to Megaton quickly, before the raiders came back south and caught them.

The two of them started running as soon as they saw the city in the distance. Ian didn't think he could keep the pace up for long, but he managed to reach the gates before he needed to rest.

Someone on the inside opened the gates for them, and they were safe. The raiders were outside, somewhere to the north.

Ian and Markus walked up the ramps and back to Craterside Supply. It didn't take long, and Ian was surprised by how small Megaton felt now. After seeing the grand expanse of the wasteland, anything would seem small to him. No room would ever feel the same and Ian knew he wouldn't be able to live in a vault even if he was allowed.

Moira seemed surprised to see them and immediately got down to asking Ian about the research. He told her about how the Super Duper Mart had been devoid of food or medicine and he explained the results of the Molerat repellant's field testing. She seemed surprised by the effect it had on the creatures, even a little sympathetic.

Finally Ian handed over the mine and told her about the ghost town. She was enthusiastic about that, and aimed a final barrage of question at the town. Ian told her about the sniper, the dilapidated prewar structures, the cars in various states of disrepair, and finally he explained Markus's idea about the mine's missing pressure sensor.

"Wow!" she exclaimed at last, "You really went all the way with the research. I can't wait to take this apart and see if he was right. I had no idea Markus is such a tech-head. I'm more than satisfied. The medical bills are all paid off. You know what!? You did such a great job, I'll even take of the girl's new bills."

Ian nodded absentmindedly while she spoke, until the last sentence soaked in.

"What do you mean _new _bills?" he demanded.

"Oh, well, umm… She woke up yesterday, but she has some kind of fever. I think… You'll have to talk with Doc Church. I'm not much of a doctor. Thanks anyway for your help."

With that, Moira turned her attentions from Ian to the mine. He was glad of that because he wanted nothing more than to get down to the hospital. He immediately ran out the door and onto the network of rusty metal pathways.

He eventually found his way to the hospital and stepped inside.

Dr. Church was sitting at a small table with a bowl of soup. His clothes had a small stain of blood on them, but otherwise he looked the same as he had the last time Ian saw him. Dr. Church looked up as he came in and said sourly, "Oh, it's you."

"Moira said she woke up but…" Ian began but Dr. Church interrupted him.

"I'm eating," he said, staring at Ian, "She's in the other room. I'll be in when I'm done."

Ian was a little taken aback by the man's hostility, but he went into the other room alone. Amata was lying there like she had been before. However, she was tossing and turning in her sleep. He watched her silently for a moment before Dr. Church came in.

"It's called rad shock fever, but this is a strange case. It's usually contracted during infanthood, from the introduction into the irradiated air. I haven't had to treat someone older than a few weeks for many, many years. She'll be fine once the fever breaks."

Ian felt relieved that it wasn't too serious, however, something nagged at him. Why hadn't he caught it? Ian had been out in the wasteland, and he'd woken up before her. By all right's he should have reacted first. But why not? He hadn't reacted at all.

Ian started to ask Dr. Church about this when a sudden explosion shook the room.

"What the hell was that!?" Dr. Church demanded, but Ian was already running out of the room. He had one hand on the rifle as he pushed the door open. The light blinded him even as he scrambled to put the sunglasses on.

"Come with me!" A panicked voice said.

Ian looked up and saw Lucas Simms about to run past him. The man had an assault rifle in his and staring toward the front gate.

"What was that?" Ian asked, falling in step behind the man.

"Deputy Weld just went offline," the sheriff answered, "I think there's something ugly going on outside the walls."

Ian didn't ask any other questions after that, just followed the sheriff. Lucas Simms led Ian up to the front gates and called out to someone called Stockholm.

A rope ladder fell down suddenly and Simms started climbing. Ian went behind him and it wasn't long before they reached the top of the wall. They met up with Stockholm, a Hispanic man wearing goggles and a head wrap.

From here they could see the setting sun in the distance.

Staring downward, Ian saw a group of two dozen raiders standing around a collapsed robot.

"Greetings," one of them called out in an artificially friendly voice, "Am I talking to the leader of this place."

"That's me," the sheriff called back, "What the hell do you want with my town."

"It's just that… I have reason to believe you are harboring two men I would _very_ much like to have in my… custody," the raider said. It was strange to hear him talk. He used larger words than any of the other raiders, but there was a mocking quality to his speech.

"You and me both know there's no such thing as raiders taking hostages. Get the hell away from my town or I'm going to have to make you."

The raider actually guffawed at Lucas Simms's threat.

"Oh, are you sure? Then I have just this to say to you," the raider paused, "Give me the two men I want, or every man woman and child in this dung heap will die."

Lucas Simms stared down at the raiders for a moment then roared, "I told you before and I'm telling you again. I will _not_ hand anyone over to you, so get the hell away from my town and crawl back into whatever hole you were born in. Get out of my sight before I decide to shoot you dead here."

His voice boomed down from the wall in an authoritative rumble.

The raider just looked up at Lucas Simms and laughed.

Moving quickly, Lucas Simms unslung his weapon and fired. The assault rifle wasn't very accurate at that range, but the bullets buried themselves in the dirt at the lead raider's feet. With no vocal command, the entire horde of raiders returned fire with their various firearms.

Ian ducked down below the waist high wall and leaned back against it. He could hear bullets whiz through the air over head and a few clanged as they made contact with the metal wall. Looking over, Ian saw Lucas Simms and Stockholm doing the same.

"Dammit, somebody get the outer gate closed!" the sheriff shouted.


End file.
